Eitho Nin (Aid Me)
by Kureiji-Kurai
Summary: The fallen Queen of Asgard, Loki, finds herself in an unfamiliar and dangerous realm after falling from the Bifrost. The injured sorceress is forced to seek aid in the closest to friendly creatures she finds, ones with pointed ears and lofty pride. She's forced to bend her knee to Mirkwood'sKing in hopes of protection.Ever resourceful, she seeks to tip the scales. FemLoki!
1. After the Fall

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

After the Fall

* Tolkien/Movieverse

-Thranduil, Legolas, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Loki/Lady Loki

_AN: I received this as a challenge. The requestee wanted me to write a crossover fic on Loki and Thranduil/Mirkwood elves (because those seem to be rare around here I guess. It does make sense though!). They wanted Fem!Loki after falling off the Bifrost into Middle-Earth where she ends up before the Elvenking and seeks his aid/asylum from danger. They are the type that would both clash horribly because they are so alike, or be brought together in the next minute because they are so alike they understand each other. I'm running with that and I'll hope it fits the requestee's desires._

* * *

Falling through torturous, cutting, icy air and the awful burn of it against her alabaster skin, a cold even she could feel; that was what she remembers at the forefront of her mind when her verdant eyes flicker open. The painfully bright sun forced her to close them again, fluttering her thick black lashes to shelter them from the shooting headache it caused. A weak groan rose from her lily throat as she brought a hand up to her throbbing temple. The motion was sluggish but so were the workings of her mind. She registered the burning pain just fine but the following logic of understanding the reason behind it was a far more complex problem.

The black leather on her arms and waist creaked with her movement; it was still cold compared to the heavy green fabric that had taken on the warmth of the ground and she shivered - It was rare that she felt the chill so this place was either very cold or she was on the edge of illness. Whatever beating she had taken was not one meant for her svelte, delicate body or her exquisite skin. Whatever she obviously battled did not know how to properly treat a fine lady of her standing. She was a princess after all! Not that she could not battle with the best of warriors, she could and did, but bruises were not becoming.

The air smells peculiar and foul as her parted lips took in a desperate gulp to her lungs. What she hopped would be soothing turned out to make it worse and she jolt upright, coughing from the thick stench and bitter taste. The gold coins and delicate chains woven into her hair jingled as she gagged. It smelled like a Bilgesnipe and her eyes opened to discover if that was indeed the problem. Her glassy eyes swept what they could of her surroundings without moving too much but she saw only open land, anomalous trees, and apparently a very stagnate pond beside her that must account for the stench. At least it was not a cluster of monsters.

Loki's eyes shot open fully, her raven curls spilling off her shoulders to frame her slender face like wrinkled dark curtains. Monsters, now she remembered. Monsters ... **Jotunn** for example, with sharp claws and red eyes. She was a monster, she was a Laufadottir. The air suddenly seemed even harder to pull in with her throat threatening to close. Her arms coiled around her stomach as it clenched violently, a thick wave of nausea washing over her and she wound her fingers tightly into her green cape for something tangible to clutch. Wherever she was now she had come after her fight with her-with Thor on the bridge after he returned to Asgard.

She slowly withered back onto the grassy spot, dry and dead grass though it was. Her head and body throbbed even more now but she could not find it in herself to conjure any magic to repair it. With her memory came the desolate, bitter feeling she had since speaking with Odin in the vault. She wished it could all have been a battle induced dream but she knew better. The despair threatened to swell within her and she could feel the sting of tears welling behind her eyes so she forced those away quickly. She had always been good at compartmentalizing and ignoring emotions she could not endure to shove them to the farthest regions on her mind.

As she lie still though, she wiggled her fingers, toes, and flexed muscles to assess the damage. She lifted her legs enough to see them without excessive movement and took note with disgust that her stockings were torn, her favorites, blood made the dark material glisten. Her decorative gold belt, her vambraces, and armor were scuffed when she looked at it, a few dents, but nothing too horrible. After a few minutes she decided nothing especially vital had taken damage, nothing broken, or if there had been, her magic had already fixed it unbidden. Some blood had spilled, maybe a fair amount of it if all the random scrapes and the deeper cuts peppering her body were any indication. Lots of bruises and gashes but she would live; fortunately or unfortunately, whatever the case might be. They would heal quickly.

Her chest heaved in a long sigh, arms draped around herself as she fingered the cloth of her once queenly cape. Queenly ... Anger sparked behind her eyes as she let memories swept through her. She had been queen since Odin slipped into slumber with her mother faithfully chained to his side and the prince was banished. It really was not fair! She had done everything, sold out her blood father and even herself to prove to Odin that she had **chosen** him as her father. Everything she was and could have been, she gave to that sleeping old man, but it had not mattered. Her **family **threw her away like an old and rusted sword they were tired of. So much for love and family! So much for loyalty!

Though she had not the time to do a great deal as queen and was not exactly the most loved, she was still the ruler. They had no right to challenge her, to overthrow her, to defy her, but they had. Thor's friends and the Gate keeper committed treason no matter how they attempted to deny it. They followed after Thor like treasonous dogs panting and lapping at his feet!

Thor, of course, was the adored prince of Asgard, perfect son, and next in succession but at least she had beaten him to the throne. She wielded Gungnir, she sat upon Hlidskjalf! At least she did have that on him; he could never again be the first of Odin's children, adopted or not, to sit upon that throne! Loki had taken that piece of history away from him. It was something she could claim if nothing else.

She deflated, the anger shifting to dread and defeat as quickly as the hate had sickened her. She had been queen, for Norn sake! Look at her now, in some field with scratches and scrapes like a beggar. There was not a great deal to cling to. At least life could not drop her much farther than this, she could be glad of that.

Oh! She half smiled when she saw glints of gold a little distance away and recognized the shape as her helm. At least she would have that here - a gift from Odin and Frigga - wherever this land happened to be. It could have been Vanaheimr but a remote part to be sure. She could endure that since she had a few allies there, it would not be a complete loss.

A rumbling sound caught her attention and she lifted herself into a sitting position to look to the woods. Perhaps it was an animal since it sounded suspiciously like a growl. She brushed the hair away from her face as she scanned the sorry looking trees for signs of life, glaring into them. She really was not in the mood for beast to crawl out of hiding. Maybe there were Snipes around after all, in which case, she should have thought better of how life could not take her much lower.

Dark, shining gray eyes looked back at her as the hairless animal; no, sickly human, slunk forward. Humans were getting much more ugly as the years went on; that gaunt body with gray skin draped carelessly over bone, jagged teeth, little to no hair, pointed ears, crude weapon in a gnarled hand. It was drooling like a dog as it snarled at her in a strangled snort. Loki's sculpted brow turned down in a contemplative scowl, crinkling her nose is utter repulsion as she looked it over. It was pungent like rotting flesh and walked with a graceless wobble. That did not look like the humans she had seen when she visited Thor, not even close. This creature looked dead or worse, like a mixture of human and Jotunn gone extremely wrong.

It growled loudly as it stepped closer, a blueish tongue licking out like a snake, and she rolled swiftly to her feet, summoning her longest dagger from subspace. It needed to be put down, that was all there was to it. Monsters had to die after all, it was a rule she had grown up knowing even if she was not sure where that left her in the grand scheme. A flick of her wrist sent the point deep into its eye socket and it dropped without further sound.

It clearly was a mutation of some kind, an unfortunate spec on life. She did not pity it this end, in fact, she felt nothing at all, not for putting down a bug. She summoned the blade back to her hand and glanced at it. Black blood, also not a human trait. Irritably, she swiped it over the ground to clean it as she walked toward her helmet.

The walking, even gingerly, let her notice all the unpleasant pains in her legs and hips but she stubbornly ignored it as she stomped through the grass. She was grateful for her high boots because the sharp, tall patches of grass wound rip her leggings even more. Her fingers locked around one of the horns of her helm and she lifted it up, delicately brushing dried grass from it before easing it onto her head. Wearing it always made her feel oddly right with the world, more powerful and intimidating. She looked much better than Lady Sif in one. Horns were better than feathers any day!

Now she simply must find civiliza-

A twig snapped behind her and she acted upon every lesson she had ever had in her life, swinging back with all her might with the dagger still between her fingers and lunging back at the foe she felt but had yet to look upon. The point drove deep into the huge, wolf-like beast's chest, and she dodged as it slumped in place, huge teeth bared as the light went out in the eyes. With a furious cry, pulling it from bone, Loki drew back the blade and swung behind her once again to drive her weapon into the shorter humanoid's neck. It gurgled grotesquely, clutching at her hips with slimy hands as it fell. She shivered it disgust, nose wrinkling, glancing at the grime on her clothing from its touch. There was not a great deal of time to morn filth touching her after she looked up to find more of the same beasts swarming from the cover of the trees.

Her eyes widened in dismay and she took a wary step back, fighting the equal balance of fear and disgust at the sight of so many hideous creatures. Not even one looked fully alive nor smelled it. It was like Jotunhiem all over again except Thor and the others were not with her, she was alone. Her head swiveled from side to side, crouching in a defensive stance as she backed away. The beasts were coming like ants leaving their hill, eyes fixed on her as they spread out to close her in.

She could not remember the last time she had been in a battle without the bunch of them being with her. It felt wrong and she felt a cloying fear that she seldom had cause to know; a fear that she might not win against the hoard coming at her and the thought of being touched again was awful but worse was the hungry looks on their hideous faces that told her they intended to rip her flesh from her bones if they gained the opportunity.

She wanted Thor! For once she desperately wanted to see her big brother, unkept face, irritating grin, and that hammer of his ... but he would not come. She had no one to call for help.

Loki forced the thought aside and worked on what she did best, strategizing. Her heart was pounding in her ears, breathing hard to steady, making it difficult to hear them but the snarling was more than loud enough to make it over her internal panic. The first thing she was forced to realize was that those were not humans and those were not regular wolves. These beasts were none she had ever seen, though similar to some others of different realms. She did not know their mental capacity, though she was sure it had to be low, nor did she know their weaknesses. The humanoid ones were slow enough but the dogs were very quick and very large. She noticed that some of them were riding the dogs as they prowled forward.

She needed to get away from them and confuse them, that she knew without any real trouble. Distance was one of the biggest things screaming in her head at the moment and she was inclined to give into the desire for it. Sending out a large group of doubles was the best way she had always found to confound and stall an enemy, so she swiftly cast the magic and swarmed them with as many duplicates of herself as she could without draining her energy.

With the clones blocking their view of her, she retreated. Pain shot up her right ankle but she ignored that as she had everything else. Running was the logical option against that many opponents. Thor would call her a coward and degrade her feminine ways, as he always did, but she knew she was in the right. Why die just to prove you were not only brave but clearly stupid? Not her, she would use her "tricks" and she would survive as she always had. She could not let them surround her so she needed to pick them off as they chased her.

Her black tresses flew behind her, cape draped over one arm to ensure she did not trip over it in her haste. Air cycled swiftly in and out of her lungs, her jaw slack with her deep breaths. Her magic was so low, so depleted that it would take massive amounts of rest to gain it back, but before that she would simply have to deal with the continual feeling of sluggishness. This was no time for respite.

A glance back told her they really were as stupid as she hoped, all following the various clones with all the gusto their hungry, clumsy bodies could. The dogs, as she thought, were the real problem. They were tearing away the duplicates, catching up to them and going right through them, thus finding them to be fakes not worth chasing. The continued illusion was enough to confuse them but two dogs were already galloping toward her, abandoning the illusions for what they could smell.

She could hear the heavy paws pounding the ground behind her as she fled toward the only cover she could find, more trees, tall and thick ones. It was her very best, or maybe only option considering there had to be a hundred monsters behind her by now. She was fast but she was also hurt and as much as she struggled to push past it, it was slowing her.

The trees were so close, but those beasts were too! She dared not allow herself to think of the potential that there were more on this side because if she did she might just give up. Loki summoned more of her throwing knives to her hand and hurled them, awkwardly turning her torso, desperately hoping nothing unseen was around to trip her, and aiming for the eyes of those dogs as she ran. A yip and thump told her she at least hit one but she could hear others joining.

Heat from a panting dog blew her hair into her face, mercifully alerting her to the danger and she felt as well as sensed how close it was. She tried not to scream as she ducked low, letting it sail harmlessly over her head. Prey missed, it snarled loudly in irritation, swerving back and kicking up dust as it skidded to right itself in its eagerness to go back for another charge.

She threw another knife but the quivering in her hands made it miss her mark, hitting it between the eyes. It reeled back, stunned, but not dead by any means. She cursed her weak nerves, furious but she had no time to correct it. The thought of living drove her on and she dared not look back as she passed the beast. The only way to live was to stay calm and think clearly about every move and not stop moving for a second. The wolf rared to life moments later, her knife sticking in its skull.

Another blade, her short sword this time, came to her hand and she dropped to her knees the moment she hear its paws leave the ground. As it sailed over her for the second time she sliced upward and ripped into its underbelly. Black moisture hit her it a spray of droplets but she pushed back her repulsion. It screamed and fell with a heavy crash, not getting up this time.

Loki scrambled to her feet and darted ahead once again, dirt and grass kicking up in her rush. Even now she could hear more coming, many more. They had seen her kill the dog and were learning from trial and error that the fakes could not be touched, which left the obvious option even for them.

She twirled and sliced as the dogs came at her on both sides, slicing the throats in one fluid motion with as much force and accuracy as attainable on the run. The riders of the beasts jumped from the backs and made to tackle her but she anticipated such a move, swaying away as they crashed to the ground. They eyed her with toothy snarls as they scrambled to charge, but she had no intention of letting them touch her.

A little voice in her head scolded her for her form, an old battle instructor's voice. Her movements might not have been like Sif's, too much akin to various sword dances of Vanaheimr than a battle, but as she smoothly cleaved the offending head of one and slit the throat of the other, she was quite sure her way was just as effective. As long as they were felled she did not care.

Fast kills were the only way she could stay alive because the minute one of them caught her or slowed her, the others would swarm. Her legs burned as she darted away, stretching them and pumping her muscles with every skid or dodge. She was breathing harder, her movements gradually becoming slower even as she slashed another particularly ugly humanoid head from its place and gutted another in a quick procession. The splatter of blood had already ceased to both her her, killing them falling into a normalcy.

Loki stumbled into the trees, desperately grabbing at them for stability and using them to push forward. They followed like tiny fish coming through a large net, slowed but not hindered in their chase. Still she ran, weaving through the foliage in varying patterns to try to slow the creature's progress; even then, quite a lot were getting near.

She sliced off a few hands that came too close, but still they came, drawing nearer with every second. Her breaths were nearly wheezes, too tired to stop the little screams every time one came terrifyingly close to stopping her. It would not be much longer before they would win by running her into the ground.

Sheer need was often the drive for invention and hers lead to a stray thought she acted upon before really considering it very far, latching onto the first low branch and swinging herself into a tree. She was agile, she always had been, so she could climb and still move through the thick branches. The leaves and branches clutched and clawed at her like hands as she moved but she would not be slowed. The trees were close enough together she had no trouble progressing, leaping from one to another. It was better than staying on ground level with them and it gave her a slight chance. So Loki slithered her way swiftly from tree branch to tree branch, working higher as she went. They still followed but remained on the ground as she prowled overhead.

It did not take much longer before she was forced to stop, body screaming for reprieve, crouching in a thick patch of leaves of its own will. She was panting, her head swimming and limbs trembling violently from the strain and overexertion. The structure of her ribs was taking a pounding from her heart even though she was still. Had she not been Aesir she knew she would have dropped some time ago.

Small miracles were still with her because she was still alive. They could not climb trees fast enough and she was thinning their ranks by running out of their reach. Many of them continued running along the ground, not having seen her duck down, others seemed to think she had stopped but could not tell exactly where she was and seemed unwilling or uneasy with staying in one place.

She watched silently from her perch, hand over her mouth to quiet her labored breathing as she leaned her full weight against the tree. The bark was rough against her face and arms but by now she hardly noticed and could not have cared less. It felt good to be still and she found her eyes shutting of their own accord, her will to stop them was running low. Rest was one thing she needed badly and she had no choice but to take it now, her body refused to move farther.

A surface, light sleep was upon her fast and it felt so blissful. The fall had taken quite a bit out of her but to have to battle after that was even worse. How long she stayed that way was beyond her with no way to tell time. The forest was largely cut off from the light and fresh air too, which did not help her stay awake either. Thin air meant lightheaded sensations for anyone not used to it, or as it was for her, exhausted individuals.

Several warning voices in her head kept her from falling deep into sleep but she was satisfied with what she could come by. It did not last long though, she was startled awake when the quiet the creatures left behind with their absence was blemished. Roaring, and animalistic screeches filled the air from seemingly every direction.

Fear spiked in her again, her body coiled tight with tension as she tried to pinpoint the sound unsuccessfully, hearing it as if the forest swirled it in all directions intentionally. Loki stayed perfectly still, hardly breathing, eyes wide, waiting for whatever battle was occurring to arrive back at her feet, but the sound stopped as suddenly as it began.

Fresh fear spurred her muscles to move again by sheer force of will, not caring to see what occurred. Her legs carried her as silently in a new direction, one she hoped was away from the carnage she supposed had been the cause of the noise. The bark of the trees scraping her soles was her only tell, and she hoped it was not heard. If nothing more, she was thankful her boots were less like Thor's, more suited for creeping than clunking.

Something caught her arm, jerking her to a sudden stop, her feet slipping from the branch to make her scramble wildly to catch another. The grip on her arm kept her from falling, dangling her precariously like a puppet until she kicked herself back onto a limb. Her heart was in her throat for the hundredth time of the day, teeth gritted to keep herself silent as she clawed with her free arm at the substance until she saw it with more clarity and a great degree of relief. Even so, her left eyes twitched in another round of disgust as she peeled away the thick bunch of sticky webbing, mentally cursing the wilds for all the things they kept that a palace intentionally rid itself of. Bugs were never her favorite pest and she was never interested in them the way Thor and Volstagg had been.

To her the world would be just fine without them. She must have run into a whole nest of them for how thick the web was and she shuddered and brushed at her hair and clothing. Her imagination had her skin crawling at the thought of how many might be on her. It was disturbing to even think of but she found no black moving dots on her person so she considered herself fortunate.

The scrambling did bring a different discovery though. Further damage to her garb, which drew a snarl from her lips as she brushed vengefully at the material. The Norns had it out for her garments! The once beautiful, though thankfully battle appropriate - split to the hips on both sides to ensure running was not hindered- skirt, another favorite of hers with gold scroll inlay to the green and black leather, was ripped.

Well, no use mourning what was ruined, she would have to admit. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she might be able to repair it later, after she was off the insufferable location.

There were bigger issues to worry over and she needed to keep moving, to get away, so she began again. On light feet she continued on over the branches but breathing continued to be a task with the stale, oppressive thickness of it. The realms air was not at all to her taste, each area holding its own unpleasant stench. When she returned to Asgard she would never visit this area again.

Her steps halted, breath hitching as she remembered the bridge, or lack of one and a new sickness swept over her, eyes clamped shut. The Bifrost was gone, which meant there was no way home. There was likely a rip in Yggdrasil here but it would take her ages to find in an unfamiliar world, if she could find it at all, if she did not die first. There was no way at all to know how large this realm was and she was quite sure now that it was not Vanaheimr as she first supposed. Heimdall was not in any condition to find her even if he did not refuse to do so ... or even if her family cared to search for her at all, and they indeed might not.

The trees began to close in on her and the world started to spin as black formed at the corners of her vision. It was not hard to know what was happening but she could not stop the stone cold panic from rushing in as her breaths came in gasps. She crouched down onto the trunk of a tree and curled in on herself.

There was a chance she would not be going anywhere any time soon. It was possible that going back home was no longer possible and from her experience of the realm so far, that thought terrified her enough to make her body tremble uncontrollably. There was no way she could last indefinitely on this wretched land. It would be the death of her eventually without any understanding of the area.

She did not want to be here, she wanted to go home! She would die here! She did not want to die; did not want to be eaten alive or starve to death! Loki needed Odin and Frigga. She needed Thor and the Warriors! She needed her home and her books and her room! This had all been like a nightmare since that Jotunn touched her; no, the nightmare started the moment Odin announced he was handing the throne over to Thor. The horrors began the moment her hand was forced in order to stop the ruination of Asgard. It had been one hellish event after the next ever since. None of this should have been happening to her! She should be in Asgard with a family that still loved her and would protect her!

Tears began to sting and burn the backs of her eyes but she struggled to hold back the sob hiding in the back of her throat. The rage and hate flared in her chest anew. She had nothing else to cling to, nothing else to hold to stop herself from plummeting and the dark emotion was as good as anything else. Loki growled the way Thor usually did when he was brimming with anger.

All of this was Thor's fault! She would not give him the satisfaction of reducing her to a weeping mess! Just because she was a woman did not mean she was weak! She was a Queen! Odin could not say differently! She was equal to any man, and warrior, any foolish prince! She was no damsel that needed a man to save her!

Leaves rustled over her head, which would be normal in a forest save for the simple fact that there was no breeze. Her breath caught and muscles coiled, dread tickling her senses instantly as she hesitantly turned her eyes upward.

A furry, rough set of legs was the first thing she saw, multiple black eyes and moving mandibles was second. Her mind screamed one word as she shrieked and scrambled down branches much faster than she normally would have thought herself able, even for an Aesir. The spider, **huge** spider was above her so the only solution her horrified consciousness could draw forth was to go down, away from it. Had she been thinking more clearly beyond, giant spider, she would have known getting on the ground would not help. But "giant, damn spider" was as far as she was getting.

Her previous thread of thought had suddenly changed. Now she wanted someone to save her! Someone could come save her any time at all! Thor could tease her for centuries to come as long as he killed that thing! She would hug him and tell him a thousand times how sorry she was for everything if he would just swing than hammer right into that hideous head!


	2. This is Mirkwood

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_This is Mirkwood_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: More action and we get to see Thranduil and Legolas! Hope you're excited now!_

* * *

They screamed like monsters, she discovered as she had sliced through several disgustingly hairy legs to get away from them. Loki's figure was a blur of black, green, gold, and faster streaks of silver as she darted through the ranks of spiders. They were easy enough to kill as long as she did not step into the webbing littered everywhere or as long as those fangs stayed away from her. These creatures relied on their numbers to kill rather than on individual skill. That seemed to be a trend among the flesh eating monsters of the realm she had landed on.

No matter how she wished it, no one came to help her and when they began dropping all around her, survival instincts shoved past her fear of these monsters from bad dreams. Even as she cut through them, running and ducking around them, she kept a hope alive in her mind that it was just that, a dream.

The Aesir Princess turned temporary Queen was fast and light on her feet. She floated like a feather and struck like a snake, never staying still or holding to patterns. Her fighting method had always been a vicious, calculating balance of quick strikes and weakness exploitation. Turning their strength and size against them with her fluid motion and fast mind was her best strategy. Throwing multiple duplicates and illusions into the mix was always equally helpful in confusing adversaries. Staying alive against so many was all about striking with precision and never, ever stopping for breath. She knew the moment she paused or slowed would be the time she would die.

Their blood was in her hair, flecks of it speckling her exposed skin and staining her garments. Her blades too were drenched and dripping, but still they came like an unending trickle of water in a rain storm. The once unblemished, flowing cape she favored was tattered now even though it survived the fall and the first influx of monsters. There was a set of holes where the fangs of one spider caught the material rather than flesh. She would lament yet another blow to her completely limited garment collection at some point in which her life was not endangered. This was not that time!

The clothes on her person were not the only things suffering; no, muscles screamed, wounds burned, lungs ached, her head span, her heart raced, and her reflexes were slowing. Her mind knew that she would not last forever and that her body would give out very soon but her need to survive refused to hear the sickening truth, so she fought on, desperately searching for clearings or openings. If she could find a way out of the swarm it would at least offer her a chance.

She knew they were faster in the trees and on the ground than she, more legs as an unfair advantage. Running high or low would be equally useless. Finding a way to bottleneck them was another matter. If she could find a narrow space that restricted them she would have a chance to take them down at her own pace.

The last of her adrenaline was wearing thin and she knew that too. There was only so much energy and stamina in even an Aesir form. She did not wear down as fast as a human but wear down she did, eventually. No living being could go on forever without respite and she had been offered little since her encounter with the humanoid monsters. Depleted magic was another drain on her body as it tried to draw from her in order to renew itself. Her legs were shaking and her arms burned with every swing or tilt of her wrists. Even her throwing knives seemed heavier. Her full lips were parted as she drew heavy cycles of the thick air.

The dangers of the place were clearly vast, too much for any alone to stand against but those were dark thoughts she did not have time for. Loki focused only on the slice of her blades through thick exoskeleton, the snaps of twigs to signal their locations, the ground beneath her, and the placement of the sticky webbing littering the area.

A light thump and brush alerted her to a new presence behind her and she whirled, blade of her sword singing with the rush of air as she brought it into the head of the spider. Round green eyes widened as she realized she had struck metal rather than bone; another blade with hands, arms, face, and a body attached. The shock swept her features unhidden as she met big, self assured, scrutinizing, blue-gray eyes.

She flinched as an arrow hissed by her and into a spider. Another person dropped down behind her, arrow poised at the ready, fingers letting it fly with practiced perfection she had never before seen with a primitive weapon. Her blade was tossed to the side with ease as the first man, or she was fairly sure it was male, swept twin blades through another arachnid.

Loki was stunned as she looked in all directions at the influx of humanoids welding all manner of weaponry. They reminded her of Ljósálfar in their willow forms and fluid motion but they were not quite fitting of that realm. She was stunned by their arrival and dazed by the long stretch of battle, just watching them glide by her at first, coming alive only when a spider nearly landed on her. An arrow protruded from its side as it twitched but she sliced into it anyway, but her body was shaking.

The black at the corner of her vision had been growing steadily as had the dizziness but now that seeming help had arrived it was suddenly overwhelming. She was struggling just to stay on her feet and her posture easily could have shown as much. All she wanted to do was fall at her potential saviors feet but there really was no way to be sure they were any less dangerous than her first encounters. The record made it hard to think this realm capable of friendly creatures.

"Os-'o adel din!" One of them yelled, and the others began to shift positions in response. Not a language Loki recognized, which confirmed she had never been in this world before.

Her breathing was labored but she tried hard to even it, still holding her long sword ready at her side and her daggers linked in her fingers. She could not surrender to the swelling darkness, she knew, lest these also be adversaries, but it was a mighty struggle to hold herself back from the edge. Just because they had not killed her yet did not mean anything and a voice screamed at her that she was a queen, and queen's did not show weakness to anyone. Fight to the end, there were countless times she heard that chorus play.

The remaining giant spiders began to retreat and several of her current rescuers pursued them through the trees like birds chasing worms, but a number of the company remained in place amidst the carnage. Loki's shoulders slumped slightly as eyes began to turn back to her. There were times she despised her tendency of being right.

With the clear common enemy vanquished they could turn their attention upon the secondary threat. She glanced from side to side as they began tightening the circle, closing ranks around her like a net, blades and arrows pointing dangerously at vital points. Some were on the ground while others perched in trees as easily as if they were born to it, which she could only guess they must have been. These were not the dull creatures she faced before, that was obvious in the way they conducted themselves and even in the sharpness of their eyes.

Her feet shuffled her back but she halted, the rustling of leaves told her they were behind her even without turning to look. A very thorough trap indeed. There was no way she could fight them and win when she was so beyond her limits but some part of her could not simply relent without the slightest bit of resistance, it would be weak. The sword was harder to hold steady than it ever should have been, and even with all her effort, it still shook slightly, enough to be notable. She cursed her waning magic and energy, she still needed it.

"Daro! Sí!" A mousy looking one with hair the color of fire and arrow aimed at Loki's eye socket barked.

That had to be an order, which instantly set her teeth to grind. The situation made the commands nature easy enough to guess since there were only so many things they could want. Loki narrowed her eyes at the little female, and she was female if figures were the same in this realm. Seeming threatening when she was so near collapse, if not unconsciousness, should have been commended. Loki had always been known for her acting skills and "silver tongue" but that in and of itself would not save her; especially if they could not understand her. She would try anyway.

Her feet moved her in a small circle as she assessed her situation, and it was a dilemma. It was obvious they could kill her with one shot but instead they surrounded her like a common outlaw, which did not sit well with her.

One with light hair and braids traveling the curve of his pointed ears, twin blades aimed to slice off her head, spoke in a fluid though angry tone as he stepped a stride closer. "Avam nathlad ettelin min dorem. Man i theled i oduleg hí?"

Loki swung her blade in an upward slice, forcing him to duck back while she let her daggers fly at the individuals she could see. They scattered at once but returned faster than she could have anticipated. She rolled instantly to the side, pivoting on her good leg to avoid the arrows she knew would fall, hearing them zing predictably into the dirt, but multiple figures blocked her way as she tried to run. Blade extended, she swung it wide to clear a path but that little move proved to be ill advised as the arrow from the female flew at her head. Had her reflexes been better she would have simply caught it, perhaps used it as an additional weapon, but she narrowly-far too narrowly for comfort-missed batting it away with her sword. She backed against a tree to give just a little less of a target to those she knew lurked behind her and glared at the archer.

This troop was not used to missing though, it was obvious by the looks of surprise mixed with anger in their faces. Missing a target must have hit as many nerves to them as it would in Thor if his hammer was deflected. Loki smirked with the tiny victory of watching color drain from the girls face for a fraction on a second. They must not miss targets at all, she guessed. Good! Now they might be more worried over who they were dealing with. She would ignore how that much motion stirred and surged the dizziness back to full force in favor of a victory.

The lead male lunged at her with a speed she had seldom encountered in any but herself; his blades slicing air and nearly embedding in the tree when she jumped out of range. Pain shot through her right leg as a price, forcing her into a crouch on her knees and she nearly toppled fully to the ground. Her vision blurred almost totally into black for a moment and by the time she recovered it, they had moved again, closer, and with more than the leader's blades at her throat. Her lashes fluttered several times to clear the haze, and she shifted her weight back only to feel cold metal cupping the back of her neck.

Loki lifted her chin as the blonde slid the point of his sword over her pulse. It might be time to play the damsel at this point, all but a few were male, so she let a whimper slip free. She should not have swung at him, she could have tried a better tactic, such as this. But it always had been in her nature to make enemies rather than friends ... monsters were just that way.

He arched his brow, leaning closer, his voice dark in warning, "Devig?"

She locked eyes with him, taking care to seem as if she was simply considering the meaning rather than stalling. That word, considering they had her pinned and were not finishing her could be only one request. It was not a question she had ever been skilled at acquiescing to though, not in all her life. If she could barter time for herself she might regain her strength but the threatening way his gaze narrowed the longer she kept her fingers wrapped around her remaining blade made it infinitely clear she could buy no more.

"Listen." Loki began soothingly, swallowing around the point of the blade, "I realize I have trespassed upon your territory but I hold no ill intent against you or your people. I sought only to escape those foul creatures. If you grant me passage I will endeavor never to trouble you again."

The blank expression she supposed she wore previously was mirrored on a greater scale as she looked over the faces. That had not gone off as well as she would have liked.

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again, "Istog peded edhellen? Heniog?" The tone made her believe it was a question, but what the answer should be was well beyond her reach.

Her lack of response and prolonged blank stare to his fixed one seemed to answer for her and a look of annoyance crinkled his brows together.

Clearly deciding he needed a new method of communication he pointed at her sword with emphasis. Surrender was the obvious message and no acting in the world could make her seem ignorant enough of it. She did not want to die and she had no plans to perish on this horrible soil but handing her personal blade over was a matter of pride to any Aesir. They could not have it and that was final, but she had no choice. The fights had depleted her magic so much that she could use no more, not even returning the blades to negative space.

Slender, weary arms relaxed and she slowly uncurled her fingers from the hilt, then shoved it to the side with her knee, never breaking eye contact. Two darker haired males moved in to snatch it up and she watched with poorly veiled anger as it was taken with her daggers.

Her rage only grew as another took hold of one of her horns and tugged her helm from her head, spilling her dark hair into her face. A few whispered quickly as if they were surprised to find a normal head under it. The same male grabbed her chin and shifted her head to the side as if seeing her face and neck better should confirm something. It did not confirm anything they seemed to expect and she jerked away from the cool touch.

All eyes widened but she did not move further as she lowered her head, shifting away from the various sharp points, fingers splayed, palms down and at her side in a show of submission. "Please, I surrender to you." She whined softly in pleading, glad no one was here to witness her pouting.

The two originally reaching for her weapons turned their hands to her now as they began to charter among themselves. The chatter was different but they all spoke of someone or something called "Firiel." The blonde and redhead snapped similar sounding commands at the group and all stilled. They were confused or upset over something and she desperately wished she knew what but that would not happen until she restored her magic, until that happened she would be forced to stay in the dark.

Loki hissed in pain as she was jerked roughly to her feet and the blonde leader stepped closer until he was almost near enough to kiss her, but he growled what she guessed was an order to the men instead. She remained still as their fingers dug into her tender arms, holding those huge eyes without blinking as they bound her quickly. There was no use in speaking when all the careful words would fall uselessly so she did not bother with more than a few whines at how tightly they gripped her.

Everything after that was a blur as they dragged her away and she allowed her mind to switch off to a large degree. Her eyes were half lidded, shutting down. The only things she was aware of was how desperately tired she was and she only left enough of her mind alert to keep herself walking and standing. She did not really watch where they took her, only moderately registering the change in air and light when they entered a structure.

They marched her lower and lower until they met other guards. The blonde and red haired leaders seemed to pawn her off on them and she let her guards move her as they pleased. She no longer had it in her to care. It was not a fight for her life now so she could switch herself into recovery. The only option was to preserve and gather energy as quickly as possible for escape, which meant there could be no more fighting. Let them lock her away, it would give her time to build her magic.

Loki squeaked in surprise when the guard shoved her toward the stairs and she noticed for the first time there were no rails to hold or catch herself on. Her heart pounded as she hugged the only wall, tilting her face away from them, having had enough of a look down to tell her she would be in no condition for a fall that long at her level of sedir.

"Aphado ven." The one that shoved her snarled.

"Ven ú-chenia." The softer voice of the female red-haired leader spoke as an apparent answer.

A few more words were spoke between the leaders and guards but she stopped trying to listen. The bruits with large helmets and heavy armor on were gentler with her after the conversation but they lead her directly to a cold, damp place and delivered her to a cell. Loki curled up on the floor and did not move again. Magic was flickering all over the bars, all over the walls and ceiling but even that hardly caught her attention. She determined that she could take time later for observation after she rested. Without rest it would be useless anyway. She slipped into a deep sleep within minutes despite the cold, hard floor and magic shoving at her senses.

* * *

A voice stirred her after some time, how much she could not say. It was a voice she knew though and she eased herself into a sitting position, eyes flickering open to stare at the handsome young blonde with twin blades. His blue-gray eyes were larger than most and she could not help feeling swallowed by them when he stared at her so intently. He looked confident in spite of his youth, arms linked stoically behind him as he stood on the free side of the bars.

Loki ran her fingers over her hair to smooth it back and out of her face. He looked so polished she hated to think how she must look. There must still be monster blood all over her and webs and grass too. When she fell into sleep she had not even thought about how she must appear after the wild day she had. It was shameful to even think about it.

His foot tapping on the stone floor brought her out of her musing enough to realize he had been speaking again but she would not have understood him even if she listened. Her green eyes lifted to his face all the same as he spoke on. Something told her he might be trying various local languages on her by the way his tone kept changing and his look of irritation grew.

Loki finally shook her head, closing her eyes, "I am appreciative that you are making an effort but I do not believe we will gain any ground until I am able to use my magic again." She felt free to say what she wanted because he could not understand her.

His confused expression spoke truth to her thoughts and she could not resist a smile. If she really had the desire to, she could tell this boy all her troubles and spill her heart out of all the negative feelings she hid from everyone. If she wanted to, that was, which she did not. Giving them voice would not help her now, it was too late for that.

After a moment he brought a hand from behind his back to reveal a cup and he extended it through the bars. She sat up a bit more, warily eyeing it. It could easily have been poisoned, or they might have a potion of some nasty nature in it that would cause mind control. Maybe that was what they did to prisoners. There was no way to know what it was. It might be undrinkable if it was taken from places like that swamp she had fallen beside. Even so, she was thirsty and she needed food and water to regain her power.

Judging by the scowl growing on his face, he guessed her line of thought and drew the cup back, muttering to himself as he turned and walked away.

A twinge of panic hit her at the thought of having scared away her only source of food or water and she scampered to her feet to grip the bars, "Wait, wait, don't go!" She could thank the Norns that Thor could not see her reduced to pleading. "Please, come back? I'm sorry I upset you, truly!"

Very slowly, he turned back to face her, deliberate heel to toe steps bringing him back to her cage, "Ídhrodh nên?" His other hand produced what she guessed was food, bread perhaps, "Ídhrog mass?"

Loki tentatively reached for them but he took a step back and chided her with words she still did not understand. A sinking feeling dropped in her chest and she looked at the proffered items that were no longer attainable, "Fine. I was only humoring you anyway."

Her eyes dropped the his feet, brows knit together in an attempt to hold her temper. This was a great deal more frustrating than she would have thought. Not understanding the world around her would drive her utterly mad before she gained her abilities back. It was unfair! She gripped the bars in irritation before she turned her back.

He was playing a game with her now and she would not entertain him like a pet. She would not grovel for food and water for his amusement. If he was holding it for answers it was no better because she could not give them. She walked to the back of the cell and lowered herself to the floor once again. Her arms moved to cover her chest as she stared at the wall in silence, seething to herself.

It was cold down here, which felt strange. She had never been cold, not terribly, before even on colder planets. It made her curious of what more happened to her in that fall. Perhaps she had yet to fully thaw from the deathly cold of the void she fell into. It was difficult to tell.

He left nearly silently and she glanced back to see if he might have left the cup at least, but to her disappointment, he took it with him. Rotten little bastard. She would never trust him again! This new race might not have been intent on chewing her bones but she was not so sure she liked them any better that the first two. They were more aesthetically pleasing, more normal to her eye, but they were prudish.

Back on her own realm they always chastised her for her attitude. Well, now she could point out that she had company!

* * *

The spiraling pillars of living rock wound in all direction, up and away to create the pathways, caverns and rooms the woodland realm called home. Stone and rock were woven flawlessly with twining roots and fractions of living trees from far above. The hanging lights and candles swayed and flickered with hot motion to bring warmth to the under earth of their castle.

A tall, svelte figure with silken, flowing tresses of warm silver hair stood in a stately crimson and glistening robe. He paced slowly in a tight circle, hem of the garment tracing the floor as he moved. His dark brows were turned down, only slightly marring flawless features carved of stone, not unlike the beautiful living stone of his kingdom in nature, cold and harshly unforgiving, but beautiful and majestic all the same. He had the look of one that had long ago forgotten how to smile, not unlike most of his people, but more so from the weighty responsibility resting atop his head.

The twisting and sharp edged symbol of that weight, the crown of wood and berries curved around his head as a distinguishing diacritic of his position. It curved delicately to frame his elongated ears and rise up in a uniform mimicry of antlers.

Thranduil stilled to look the two before him over with cool examination of his year sharpened scrutiny. "Continue."

His audience consisted of a fiery sprite of a captain of his guard, the lovely but willful Tauriel of the Silvan elves and his contrasting young, fervid heir. The two contrasted in looks but not the fire nor strength of will and stubbornness hidden under polite stances and easy nods. Before him stood the biggest trouble makers of his realm, but also its most avid and capable defenders.

The Elven King had never been known to welcome guests into his borders, especially those wielding magic and weapons he knew nothing about. One of her blades rested in his chamber and he had spent some time examining the unfamiliar designs and crafting of the sword. It could have been crafted by a new metal worker, some unknown dwarf attempting to make a name for his family, but it was doubtful. The work was not elvish nor dwarfish that he had ever seen and that alone interested and worried him. The headpiece was also a bit of a worry, but he left that in his own revere.

With his father stilled, Legolas took to pacing as if to balance the stillness. "We thought her one of Elrond's or perhaps a rogue of some sort. She used magic to create illusions that we saw and she moved with sharp reflexes and grace of our kin... but she is human." Legolas paced slowly beside the steps of his father's throne, eyes cast to the ground in bemusement.

"Perhaps," Thranduil spoke in his usual slowly, ridged, low tone, "she is simply of lower birth, blood further mixed with humans."

Legolas lifted his eyes and said, "But she does not know our tongue. It is quite strange and gives me an ill feeling of something being amiss."

A huff escaped his father, "She is quite likely feigning ignorance."

"I considered that, but I already tested it. I offered her food and water if she would give me her name or where she hails from but she continued to speak that strange tongue." Legolas persisted, appealing to his father's logic, thinking his words were falling on deaf ears even though all was indeed being considered.

This gave the king pause as he pondered it. "It is possible she was an unwanted child, abandoned and thus never learned to speak as we. There are too many variations of human language to know them all." The Elvenking offered with a wave of his hang, the rings on his fingers catching the light and making it dance like a prism.

He liked this guest less and less the more he learned of her. Such a presence undoubtedly meant nothing good for his people. Whatever danger she brought, he cared nothing for it. It was safest to keep her locked away to rot in his prison until she expired like all humans did.

"I am uncertain. I feel something very strange when I am near her, an unease." Legolas walked more slowly, eyes cast to the floor.

Thranduil turned quizzical, steely eyes on his captain, "And what was your impression of this girl, Tauriel? What sense does she draw from you?"

Forest eyes lifted to meet his for a moment before respectfully lowering them and speaking carefully, "I agree with your son. There is magic hovering just under the surface of her that I have never felt. She is like no elleth or human I have had cause to meet."

Eyes again cast to the floor, Legolas nodded slowly, "It might be best if you also examine her, Adar."

An elegant dip of his head signaled his assent, "Very well. Have her brought to me tomorrow so that I may see for myself this creature that evaded your arrows."

Turning, robes gliding behind him, the king left the two younger elves standing before an empty throne. They watched him leave before exiting another way together. The glimmering throne room is left to silence and the high seat of sculpted bone and antlers is left to await the things to come.

Much farther down in the depths of the dungeons of Mirkwood's realm, Loki too had been left to wait, but much more importantly, left to rest and to plot. The supply of her magic was returning in a slow trickle, like the slow drip of water falling drop by drop into a glass. Slow though it was, it was still returning.

* * *

AN: I left the translation to the end because you know how frustrating it would be for Loki not to have any idea what is being said? Thus readers must suffer with her.

Os-'o adel din! = Go around behind them

Daro! Sí! = Halt/Stop! Now!

Avam nathlad ettelin min dorem. Man i theled i oduleg hí? = We don't welcome strangers into our forest. Why are you here?

Devig? = Do you yield?

Istog peded edhellen? Heniog? = Can you speak Elvish? Do you understand?

Firiel = Mortal One/human (f)

Aphado ven. = Follow us.

Ven ú-chenia = She doesn't understand us.

Ídhrodh nên? Ídhrog mass? = Do you want water? Do you want bread?


	3. Art of Surrender

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Art of Surrender_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: Loki getting into more trouble, unintentionally making her life worse, I love writing that! Little action in this chapter too, little sass and hints of diva time._

* * *

Emrald eyes drifted open listlessly, then widened as the shock of her surroundings flooded her memory with her current location. She was still on the cold rock floor and there were still bars over the exit. Farther down the steps to her little cell, someone was coming. The metal of his armor tinkled lightly as it hit his legs with every step. That must have been what awakened her.

It did not take long for a young man to appear at her door, holding a tray. His hair was on the dark side of blonde, silken and long like the rest, face thin, but painfully boyish to show just how little of the world he had seen. His sprinkling of armor was very light, touches of metal into his garments, nothing like the guards she had seen before. It would not surprise her to know that he had never ventured from this underworld of safety. Everything about him screamed inexperience from the way his eyes fluttered from her to the floor to the way his hands shook just slightly at the prospect of being near a prisoner.

They clearly were not used to visitors.

Oh, she could work with this! This little sprite would be her key to unlocking all manner of answers. He was afraid of her, intimidated and clearly curious if his eyes told her anything. That in mind, she stood very slowly, letting him watch her every move, and glided closer to the door. She was unsure how age worked in this realm but the closer she came, the younger he seemed. Giving a prisoner food and water might be the closest to battle he had ever been allowed. Working his way up, she guessed.

Canting her head shyly to one side, eyes lowered, she spoke in her sweetest and softest voice, "Did you come to help me, little one? Because I think you did."

A very cute little frown wrinkled the skin between his brows, "Dhen ú-chenion." He was shorter than she was and that forced him to look up.

They still spoke something she did not understand a word of, that had not change over night. She simply had to remedy her total lack of communication! Half her power was behind her ability to deceive, which was hard to do if no one understood her. The realm was either too far out of Yggdrasil for the Alltongue to have hold, or the less pleasant option was the realms magic caused it.

There was a very dark magic dripping from every piece of rock and every root or twig, she had felt it railing against her all night. It was alive and sickening with tainted hostility and malice, perhaps even grief of the forest above. If this dark magic was strong enough, it might interfere with more than just her ability to communicate. It was not a pleasing prospect; if true, she might encounter any number of obstacles to her usually free use of seidr. Weakened by the fall it had likely amplified the dark magics hold against her.

Her magic had built up while she slumbered, she could feel the flourish of it tickling under her skin. It was in no way close to her usual potency but it was enough to be quite helpful if she was very careful with its use. She was not ultimately catatonic because of its lack, at least. It gave her new options to combat the strength of the foreign entity of magic.

"Is that for me, little one?" Her sweet tone seemed to relax him as she motioned at the tray.

She needed that water and food quite badly if she hoped to build her seidr. Loki smiled as he stepped closer and held it out to her. With slow and delicate movement, she took the cup first, bringing it to her lips to drink deeply, not taking the time to savor the odd but sweet taste. If it had been enchanted she was well past caring in favor of quenching her thirst. Being drained of her power left her uncomfortably near a mortal's level of weakness in body.

Loki glanced at him again carefully. Blonde and blue eyed; a trimmer, less repulsive, wider eyed innocent version of Thor. He could have been Fandral without facial hair too. That made it all so much easier!

The empty cup remained cradled in her hands a moment before she replaced in on the tray. She wanted to snatch the uncommon looking flat bread from the dish but knew he would leave the second she had taken it. He was blissfully unaware, but he would be staying longer in her cell than she would. Moving slowly, she reached through the bars as if to take the plate, but rather than taking it, she snatched his wrist, jerking him forward before he had time to realize he was in danger.

Blue eyes shot from her hold on his arm to look into her face in utter shock, probably surprised by her strength of grip and swiftness of motion. Loki did not give him a chance to cry out, a low level incantation already rolling from her lips. It sprung from her fingers to curl around his arm, traveling up his neck to rest upon his head in a green mist. His eyelids fluttered as his body lost its ability to stand, leaving him spineless and toppling him to the floor. Loki flinched when the tray clattered loudly to the floor, waiting to hear the sound of others coming, but after a few moments of silence, she deemed it safe to continue.

Her first try with a low level spell on the door failed and forced her to use a higher level, which meant a bit more seidr expended. This realm held unfamiliar magic, some seeming to be of concerning levels. It galled her to be forced to use more of her much needed reserve on a door but she had little choice. There was nothing to be done, and it was worth the power taken when the door drifted open.

She crouched down on her knees, setting the wooden tray inside the door and nibbling the bread from the fallen plate. Normally she would not touch things that had dropped but at this point she was only grateful it had not rolled off the ledge. She tasted what she guessed to be honey and quite a few herbs of some kind, none she could name, but it was surprisingly good for its ordinary looks.

With cold eyes, she examined the youth's condition to be sure he had not died unexpectedly before she dragged him into the cramped space to close the door again. These creatures, whatever they were, should not have let a prepubescent tend any being with cunning, he was too foolish. Useful, however, to her, with his well crafted dagger. She put his blade to use quickly, pricking her finger in order to write out another incantation to prevent anyone seeing the unconscious boy in with her. Once completed, she felt the little jolt that signaled it taking hold.

Loki let out a long sigh, thankful to have that finished so simply, and she relaxed, sitting on his legs for a more comfortable perch. It had been a long time since she had been forced to rely merely on menial cantrips, runes, and chants. Things would be better once she regained her strength, but it was well enough for the time being. There were many ways around magical blocks.

Now she could take her leisure with him to get exactly what she needed. This spell was intermediate at worst but it took quite a bit of time if she did not wish to drain the magic she had finally gathered back. Having a living native served a much more important purpose than picking his pockets. She glanced down at him, her raven curls trickling over her shoulders. Having been given no way to bathe, she knew she must still look horrid, which desperately annoyed her. That would be remedied soon!

Loki rolled out to cover his body with her own, using him as a temporary divan as she stared into his face. Out of curiosity, she took a little time to examine him, check his eyes, feel the texture of his hair, and especially to examine his ears. Pointed ears were a trait of a few races she knew of, but these were not long enough to be kin to most. She pondered over exactly what race these might be linked to. They looked healthy, no gray skin like the Dark Elves, but they clearly had to be a form of elf.

She let her body relax, closing her eyes and resting her chin on his shoulder before she began the next incantation. Her words drifted clear and light to float her into that mind of his, drawing free from its secrets the tongue of his world, any he knew would be claimed now by the sorceress as well. He was young, so he was likely to be more limited in non-native tongues that would serve no purpose other than confusing the translation, unlike one of the older of his kind she might have used; the one with twin blades might really have cluttered her mind. She could be glad she caught a young one in her net.

Her body went limp as her mind fixed and tapped into all those words, all the voices he had ever heard over his lifetime mingling together in a chorus for her to listen to. Voices she had yet to hear spoke long and softly to her as she absorbed them, the owners unknown to her, but beautiful in different ways as she heard them now. If she ever met the owners she would know the voice before she knew a face.

The Galadhrim, or Edhelath were the people she was now "guest" of. Woodland Elves. It was unfortunate she could not expect this transfer to be perfect, unable to exhaust all aspects of his complex language, such as things she had never seen, local dialect oddities, and the like would be lost. It was a flawed method to learn a language in its entirety, but it served well enough to bring her to an intelligent level with the race. She would know what they were saying and be able to speak in return, plead her case if needed, which would have been nice in the woods had she been able to use this spell.

A menial grasp of two other less musical languages mingled into the influx, but she was unsure what races they belonged to. She would find out later. She had a feeling the ugliest sounding one belonged to those mutants she met in the field, but she cared not to dwell there long. Her head lolled to the side as the hold began to slip and dwindle from his mind, releasing both. It left her droopy eyed once again but she needed to get up.

The boy would not be awake for at least a day after being hit with her first spell and being subject of another so she would have time to flee. Stopping to listen and hearing nothing, Loki pushed the door open and eased out, shutting it behind her. Anyone looking in would see her asleep on the floor where the little warrior stayed. Since he had been sent to bring her food it was unlikely any others would come too soon.

Since the steps leading deeper into the cavern would be counter productive to escape, she crept up the sloping stairways, taking ones that could hopefully lead her outside. She was careful to be silent, listening for voices to give her indication of where to go or where to avoid. Her tattered skirt licked lazily at her heels as she moved on tiptoes. Lanterns hung high overhead to light the way through the winding corridors of gleaming stone. The sound of rushing water caught her attention and she followed the trails through several winding hallways until she found the source.

Water gushed wild and free from high above, glittering like falling diamonds, to drop into a churning aqua pool. The waves bubbled and gushed out to travel their way through various cracks in stone it could find. Whether it formed this way on its own or was crafted deliberately, it was a brilliant structure. Building a castle here was quite an advantage over the wild above, protected and cared for by this towering rock and the living water flowing like blood in its veins.

With careful steps, keeping to the balls of her feet, she approached the edge of the vast and deep pool. She gladly dipped her hands and drank greedily of the pure spring. There was a sweet taste to this water, unlike Asgard or Midgard. It would be a shame to taint it with spider blood. She ripped an errant and clinging bit of fabric from her skirt, wet it, and used it to scrub the dried blood from her face and arms.

Her cape was gone, she realized when she arrived at her shoulder, pauldrons missing with the fabric. When had they taken it from her? She had not even noticed it absent. Perhaps they did it when they untied her hands. She had absolutely no idea, though it greatly annoyed her. They did not have to take it from her, she could have used it as a blanket at the least. Another irksome disadvantage she would have to deal with. This escape was becoming tedious and appealed to her less by the moment.

Perhaps she should not escape, the plan looked bleaker by the moment. Hiding within the safety of this place might be to her advantage until she better knew what she would be facing outside. Her first trip had gone quite poorly and she was not of the mind to relive any of it. Remaining hidden in this carved out mountain seemed to be a better option. While she did not plan to stay in that tiny, dank cell, roaming the halls of this palace would be a splendid alternative. It could not be that hard to evade their notice in a dwelling as large as this, surely! It was a veritable city underground from what she had seen.

If she slept a bit more, recovered further, her magic would build enough to sustain a concealment spell, enabling her nearly absolute freedom. Finding a place that would be secluded enough to recover would be her only issue.

Loki stared into the pool, fingers tentatively working to repair the damage done to her beautiful hair. She would fix it with magic or cast a glamour over it until she could fix it properly, but she did not have the seidr to waist. It was peaceful here beside the rushing water, a natural rush of calming nature to replenish a soul. It could so easily lull her to sleep even as she carded her fingers through locks of hair glued together with dry blood.

There was a very real ache throbbing in her temples, behind her eyes. The longer her magic was depleted the more she would feel this pain grow. Those with magic in their blood as intricately as hers could not really be without it. It caused side effects similar in part to human anemia, heat to Jotunn, water to Fire Demons, or lack of every living being focusing every drop of attention onto Thor. She loathed the feeling of being so weakened, being unable to use properly the one thing that brought her on even ground with everyone else.

Being of Jotunn blood herself, it was odd that she was cold now that her magic was unable to protect her and hide the defects inherited by those monsters. She should be feeling the heat, should not feel a deep chill in her bones. While she was a shifter, the defects of her blood would not be something she could alter. It made no sense!

"You are far more trouble than you seem to be worth." An all too familiar voice reached over the sound of the water to slap her senses awake.

Her coiled tight shoulders sagged, a groan on her lips, hands fisting into her hair. Edhelath were much too quiet! It had also been foolish to linger so long in an open space. She was far too tired for this! Loki pivoted and eased herself slowly to her feet, turning to find him standing high above on a ledge like a statue. If not for their previous shows of strength and agility she would have questioned his ability to reach her from such a lofty place before she was out of his reach, but these were not humans.

"And you," she shot back, "are proving to be a thorn in my side." Eyes narrowed, she watched the surprise sweep his face when she spoke.

The lights from above reflected off the water and rolled over his body in odd patterns, gleaming in his light hair and catching his blue-gray eyes. "So it _does_ speak intelligently? Your incomprehension was nothing more than a ploy." He hid his shock behind derision.

"_Mockery_, you should know, gains you no favor with me." Loki crossed her arms over her chest in irritation, cocking her hip.

"I am quite certain I was never seeking it. I care not for meaningless partisanship from equivocators or spies." Only one of his twin blades occupied space in his hand, the other remained sheathed at his back.

"I am no spy, I hold no place in your world and thus I have no reason to. I equally have spoken no lie since my arrival. I could not speak your tongue before, I assure you." She ground out defensively, displeased by the rather familiar terms of past confrontations already being thrown at her, "It is a skill I only attained once I was rested enough to focus my mind on learning."

His brow creased, obviously trying to process information spoken as well as deduced, "Then," he proceeded with a threatening tone only those able to back it with true authority could produce without a hint of bluster, almost reminding her of Heimdall, though in a form capable of humor, "you will now be able to answer my questions. I will have your name and your reason for entering our forest!"

Loki's plump lips stretched in a sickly sweet smile, "Is it not considered common courtesy to offer your own name before demanding it of a lady in your realm?" When she caught motion in her peripheral, her focus faltered for a fleeting moment. Her feet shuffled in an involuntary step back when she spotted heavily armored guards take places on either side of the pool, "My name is Loki." She shot the words at him, looking back to his pristine little figure, "My visit to your charming forest was merely a necessity, not calculation as you suppose, as I fled the filthy beasts riding dogs."

His sharp eyes scrutinized her, peeling her apart in strips and layers as he stared, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

"And your escape was well timed," The second voice spoken softly behind her made Loki whirl, heart pounding in shock, to face the red haired elleth, "for we were just on our way to escort you to see Thranduil, the King of our land. He desires to examine you for himself."

Loki's eyes narrowed, shifting her weight to her heels as she eyed the smug, mousy little creature before her, straightening to her full height, "There are not many people who can sneak up on me."

The she elf only smiled, her too long lips stretching farther, "You may find me unlike 'many' people in many things."

Looking down her nose at the slightly shorter woman, she smiled wickedly, taking those words as a form of challenge, "The opposite could prove to be true as well."

Her glance flicked up to Legolas a moment. Prince. That would account for all that pride, confidence, and attitude. Little wonder, though that knowledge might be useful so she tucked it away for a later time.

Without looking, she sensed the added company moving in. Regardless of how well she might unbalance the two head elves, attempts to simply bolt would be thwarted. It was exorbitantly clear that she would not be sneaking away, especially not when the number of guards in the dragon looking armor grew in number as the leaders monopolized her attention. While she was careful to keep her posture relaxed and expression assured, her mind was anything but quieted. She might not fair as well as the first time facing these creatures. The escape from her cell would place her in a different level of suspicion than she had been when they took pity on her obvious helplessness, especially if they went inside.

Even if she could escape, now that they had found her once, it might be harder to hide again. They would place stronger spells on the door next time and Loki could not be totally sure she could free herself quickly if that happened. However, if she could speak to this king and convince him of her plight, her time here could go far more advantageously. Turning and twisting minds was not terribly hard for her, she had always been good at exploiting weaknesses. Her silver tongue had done wonders on other rulers in the past and there was little reason to doubt she could do so again. It surely would be worth the effort.

She had little to lose by allowing herself to be taken to audience. If she bowed and scraped enough she might get farther than she would hiding in the stone halls. Swearing a few loyalties away and begging his protection would leave a sour taste in her mouth but it would be far from the first time. She could play the poor, frightened, weak damsel for him and let him feel a hero in saving her from a horrible fate. Once she had him tightly under her spell, she might just have far more help than anticipated.

Who knew, she might end up sweeping the kingdom from his grasp if she was of the mind. Having an army of her own could not hurt once she was ready to return to Asgard. If she gained this little merry band, she might give Odin a run for the throne yet. But at the least, they might know about a bridge to other worlds if they were indeed the ones ruling the magic of the forest.

"Please, lead the way, I shall not struggle. I am not foolish enough not to see when I have been bested." She tipped her head respectfully in surrender, "I yield, once again."

* * *

After reporting to him, Legolas and Tauriel took stations on either side of steps leading to his prestigious perch. The developments disturbed him mightily; the fact the she escaped was troubling and her sudden absorption of a language she knew nothing of was more so. It could have been a trick, she could have known their tongue since the first, but he had been feeling strange disturbances, twists and kinks in the usual calm. Whenever Gandalf the Grey had visited, he had sensed similar waves and rifts in the magic, but not quite like this. It made him wary all the more of this visitor.

Now, he waited for her to be brought before him, sitting languidly on his seat to belie his discomfort. He watched with keen eyes as his guards lead her from the long passageway to the open high dome of the gathering place. Before she realized where she was, her eyes roamed in analytic and careful exploration, chin slightly lowered. The intricate apiary structure with thick, chiseled pillars and sharp polished spines of stalagmite with winding roots loomed far above them all. She took her surroundings in not with awe, as it was with humans that had never seen the grandeur of a palace, but with careful eyes that searched for weaknesses. Flanked by heavily armored guards, she looked smaller still as they brought her up.

The moment she spotted the throne, however, set her green gem eyes on the one sitting upon it, her chin lifted in confidence earned by many years of facing similar sights. As expected, without being forced, she halted several paces before the carved steps leading to the cathedra, heels clicking together when she stood to attention. The guards, having delivered her, respectfully backed away to give the proper distance.

He could see defiance thick in her eyes. That was not the face of a young woman that had given up, not one that saw the odds of a kingdom against her, but a face of confident expectation. She was calculating and astute, a sly grin lingering just beneath the surface of her pouty lips.

There was inerrant grace, regal poise, and elegance confined within her sylphlike body. The way she moved was like his kin, purposeful and ethereal in a way that no human, even the most royal lines, was capable. Humans could not tell the difference, could not see the minute flaws in motion displayed by any not sharing elvish blood, but an elf could see, could watch others stumbling like infants. Elves walked upon starlight and clouds of spring. They were prized in beauty and respected for a reason. Delicate and exquisite but indomitable by any daring to underestimate their concealed power, his kin.

She was not from Lake-town. This woman in her tattered dress, one that had once been as fine as his own garments, being lead to stand at the edge of the dais, was no human. Not a drop of her blood was human nor Dwarf, she was too well built for that. Neither was she an elleth despite her beauty. Her lush curls of gleaming ink locks were enough to tell him that. While his people frequently had dark hair, he had never seen any quite so dark, and he noticed a subtle difference in texture, a glittering blue tint under the black that was exactly the same as feathers of ravens.

The little creature bowed herself respectfully, back straight and posture without a single flaw, "Your majesty, I pray you accept my gratitude for allowing me shelter and accept my fondest greeting."

As he expected, she spoke with eloquence. Each word was chosen with care and delivered on a clear, perfect tone of practiced ease. Her sweet tone belied a lack of respect hidden under years of training. She had not simply sprouted from a river bank, no, she was refined with a careful and steady hand. There was no question left in his mind that she had been groomed for interactions such as this. After so many years observing people come and go, he was adept at reading details.

"For one unable to speak to my Captain only yesterday," The Elvenking allowed his voice to roll down the steps and assail her adequately before continuing, "you learn remarkably fast."

Her head tipped in a chastened nod, "I was not yet recovered from my arrival here. I required time to acclimate and adjust my mind until I could understand."

Thranduil eased to his feet and descended the steps slowly as he examined her in her examination of him, enunciating every word. "Tell me your name."

Her eyes locked onto his, a dangerous glint of sharp intellect within them, meeting his stare as an equal despite her situation, "Greetings, Sire." She tipped her head to show deference, "I am Loki, Queen of Asgard's Realm."

While he expected some strange declaration, he was not fully prepared to hear it voiced in any but his own thoughts. Looking at her confirmed everything he gleaned from her weapons and the information he had from Legolas and Tauriel. While he did not know the names of every city in the land, he knew most, and knew all the ones capable of sustaining a Queen. Asgard occupied no place upon that list, nor any capable of the craftsmanship in her weapons or armor. Everything lead to the inevitable conclusion; she had either been crafted from recesses of some dark magic, or she was not of Middle Earth.

The sage King did not falter in his resolve, his expression projecting only doubt and challenge, "I know of no such kingdom, nor Queen of such name."

She smiled coyly, lyrical voice deceptively demure, "I should expect so, for I am not of your realm. My feet touched this soil only yesterday," Loki's voice lowered to a near whisper as her eyes dissected him so thoroughly her next words were little surprise, "as I believe you might already have suspected, Sire." This creature was unafraid to speak of this Asgard, proudly announcing it, in fact.

The room was suddenly thick with silent tension, the guards exchanging glances of confused apprehension. He could keenly feel his son tense to a mass of tight coils of nervous energy desperate to be released. His Captain kept her hands folded in front of her, expression carefully unchanged, but he could always see the flexing of her neck muscles whenever she was displeased.

Thranduil allowed silence to descend once more, brow arching in disparagement, "Your realm? This _other world._.." He mused, refusing to relinquish his hold on a victory to her, "If I am to believe these words, where might it be found? Or perhaps, a more apt question would be how did you come to my domain?"

Loki seemed more than prepared for the question, "As Queen, I am responsible for all that happens in my realm as well as things directly near it. My people use a pathway, magical rifts in the dimensions to travel between lands. Magic not so unlike that of this realm. Upon my latest journey, the bridge was somehow damaged and I was displaced, redirected forcefully into this, your world."

He was only two steps higher than she but he used the height difference to force her to look up, "Magical rifts? You truly expect me to believe this?" The crimson silk mantle slipped farther down his shoulders as he waved a hand in a half circle, "Show me this pathway of yours and perhaps I might be more inclined to listen, but given no proof, I can see no reason I should hear you further. While my real is indeed familiar with many forms of magic, as you clearly have sensed, I see no reason to blindly accept your word."

"Oh, there is indeed a rift here or I would not have landed in your world, I merely need to find it again." Her nose crinkled in revulsion, "I would have done so already if I had not been forestalled by a pack of sickly beasts riding wild dogs. There arrival forced me to flee the location before I found my way back to my own world. My retreat brought me here and so I stand before you."

Legolas scoffed, unable to keep silent, "This tale is far from provable."

She only smiled, "I expect there might still be remains of those beasts I killed beyond the trees. I was dropped not far from there." Her slender arms crossed, hip cocking to one side, "You also have my weapons and my helm. You need only examine them and the runes etched upon the surface. I am quite sure you will find them unreadable to you or your people."

The way Legolas lifted his chin said everything, he had listened and judged it all impossible. What he really wanted was to drag truth from her lips, force her to give up her true birthplace so that he could pronounce her a spy. "If we were to even begin to believe your words, exactly what do you seek from us? You clearly desire something or you would not be telling us this."

"Yes," Thranduil chose to forestall further interruption from his overly eager heir, "it is clear enough to us that you, a lady that does not often share more than is strictly necessary, would reveal none of this without good reason. Therefore, I believe it is time you made your intended request."

The narrowing of her eyes was clue enough that she abhorred being called out, being deduced, but she nodded anyway, "My strength was greatly taxed by my fall and the subsequent attacks that followed. The only thing I request is for your extension of hospitality." Her eyes lowered to the ground submissively, "I am unprepared for this word for I do not understand it. My plea is only that you offer me shelter, offer me temporary aid until I am able to find my way back to my world. In return for asylum, I would offer you my skills and offer my services to you."

Thranduil watched her carefully, eyes drawn to her hands as she drew nervous circles into her palm, "Were I to offer you this, what exactly are these skills you would lend to my service?"

Her voice was quieter than it had been, "Any you require. I have been to many lands and learned a great many secrets in my travels. I am a skilled sorceress versed in all forms of seidr, as I have seen you obvious reliance on magic. I am skilled in battle as well as palace matters. I believe you would find me invaluable, my King."

"And you are willing to pledge these skills to me?" He would admit that she was slightly tempting him, stirring his curiosity.

Fast shuffling feet drew all eyes to the main hallway as a guard rushed in, "We have found Lendion! He was concealed within her cell, cloaked in dark magic. We are unable to wake him! She has begun an attack, your majesty!"

The tension that had slowly been eased shot high once again. His people were ridged with brimming anger and intent. Attacking one of their kin had never been the wisest of moves for any visitor, but the mistrust they all felt around her amplified any normal response ten fold. This creature, whatever she was, was far too dangerous. Killing her outright might be prudent, but if he did believe her to be a queen, ending the life of some distant realm's monarch could be hazardous. However, if she was as weakened as she claimed, he would not have to kill her himself.

Loki tensed instantly, holding up her hands in a placating gesture, "This is a misunderstanding! I assure you, he is unharmed! He is simply asleep and will awaken in a few hours."

Shoulders squared, chest expanding, Thranduil shook his head, "I do not believe this is a misunderstanding. In fact, I understand the declaration perfectly. It is treachery you bring with you and no good can come from listening to your lies. You might have any number of dark traps awaiting us."

Loki stepped closer, eyes suddenly pleading, "I concede that my attempt to escape was a mistake, but I was in no way attempting to cause any damage! I implore you to listen to me!"

Thranduil continued, ignoring her pleading, "Her prolonged presence here is nothing but a threat." He flicked his wrist her direction, "Remove her at once. Take her to our borders and send her off. If she tries to return in secret, she is to be executed."

He knew she was nothing but a danger. It would have been best to throw her out when the light first peeked from behind the hills. Dark magic was too dangerous to trifle with. For all he knew, she was one of the dark forces moving over the land, a servant of evil. Be there truth to her story or not, she could clearly not be contained easily within a cell. He could not afford to risk her escape a second time to let her spread her ill magic.

Legolas had already drawn his blades, the hardness of his body indicating he too was finished with these games. The magic she exuded made father and son alike feel disquieted. As such, there was no reason he should reconsider. Dangers within his borders were to be removed without question, be those spiders or spies.

* * *

The sound of metal scraping metal sounded around her as the elves drew weapons. Loki's heart beat faster in her chest as she glanced around the room. These creatures were going to remove her from the nearest thing to safety she had found in this world. There were no guarantees she would find another before those monsters descended once more. No help would come from Asgard, no ears would heed her desperate calls. The bridge from this realm to another could be in any location. If she was expelled now when her magic store was so low there would be no chance of survival. She simply had to convince him!

There was an art to surrender. Appealing to the audience was the key, finding what they would listen to the most.

Loki gaped at him as he ascended the steps of his thorn, "Wait, you cannot do this! I have no recourse in your realm, no defense against your beasts! You confiscated my weapons and I cannot navigate your world! You must listen to my request! Hear reason!"

"I am required to do nothing." Thranduil canted his head slowly to give her his profile, staring down with chilled eyes, "I can, and I shall. I do whatever is best for my realm, and your swift removal is just that. See if you can find your rift."

"I swear to you that I have caused no damage here! You cannot simply refuse to hear me! At least allow me a few moment to speak!" Loki struggled to keep the full weight of her panic from her voice as her mind raced.

"I already have. My word is final."

Desperation was swiftly driving Loki farther than she ever cared to go, but as the young elfling, the heir moved on her, blades drawn, she dropped to her knees, "I implore you to give me but one chance! I swear to you, I will cause you and your people no harm!" Her pleading was directed three ways, at the only three in the room that seemed to have the power to save her. "I will swear fealty to you and your kin while I am here. After I return to my world I will align Asgard to your side in treaty!"

The Elven king's steps hitched only a moment, "If you are indeed a queen, then you will be able to last here a few days before finding your way back."

Real and honest fear trickled up her spine along with flashes of manic rage. He was dismissing her, tossing her out like trash into a world she could not fight alone. So soon after a far more personal rejection, it stung her pride. The voice echoing words in her head was not this king's but Odin's instead. No one had the right to merely dismiss her! By right, she was born as queen to Jotunhiem regardless of her love of it, and she was rightful queen of Asgard as well. Nothing had been transferred officially back to Odin, as was law, so by that same law, she had not relinquished the title.

She was queen, she defeated Laufey the way Odin had been unable to, outwitted Thor and his whoring lapdogs with no more than a slight of hand. She would not be dispelled so easily a second time in a matter of days and would not be left to die in a harsh world ...again! She was no babe now, she could not be pushed aside and she would not fall willingly away ever again. This king was no different from Odin, looking down his nose as if he were so far removed he need not touch ground! He was narrow minded, pompous and stupid!

Loki moved to her feet, swiftly stepping away from Legolas. Red began to cloud her vision as her anger grew.

The mirth and pleasantry was gone from her voice as she glared furiously at the king before her, hardly aware of the guards nearing, "You have no true authority over me! Be this your kingdom or not, I too am of royal blood. I was born to rule and I will not be cast out like a criminal by _anyone_!" Her sword appeared in her outstretched hand, summoned from its close proximity to her and she pointed it at the king's retreating figure, "I demand to be heard, as is my right as your equal."

A flash of shock flickered in his eyes, widening them just a fraction before he was descending the steps again, drawing the sword from his belt in a swift slice.

"All you shall hear is the sound of our blades splitting your skull for daring to threaten our king!" One guard snarled dramatically as they rushed instantly to subdue her

They reminded her of Asgard's soldiers, brainless and stupidly loyal to the point of blindness. Snarling in fury, rage bubbling beneath the surface of her being, she threw them all back with a burst of green light at the flick of her wrist. She would not be touched by filth! They were nothing but filth!

Rationality was fading swiftly, replaced only with feelings so similar to the splitting fury she felt while battling Thor on the bridge that it terrified her. The rage pulsing inside her threw careful monitoring of her seidr to the wind, only concerned with the battle at hand. She had been close to convincing this king if she had been given more time. She should have known a small act would come back to bite her. Something always ruined it!

Legolas' blades clashed against her sword only seconds after the guards fell and his power surprised her. He was strong, strong enough to force her to break away, rolling to the floor in order to have his back. The red hair was a flash beside her, giving the warning she needed to swipe the thrown dagger from the air in its travel for her neck. Rolling to her feet once again, she pivoted to face the three encroaching enemies, feeling the stir of others soon to arrive from the hallways.

She could still escape, could still conceal herself in the safety of this castle, subsiding off anything she could glean from it. All she needed was a hostage to stall them. The Prince would be her best choice, the one they would be desperate to keep alive. A spell to keep him controlled would be enough to get here away. She need only touch him to cast it.

Loki dove into their midst, back folding her nearly in half to ducking under a swipe of the king's blade as she sliced a gash into the Tauriel's thigh on her way. Twin blades locked to block her pivotal following swing on the king, as she supposed they might. He was in perfect range now, all she needed to do was get under those blades.

A strong kick to her midsection from the elleth on the ground sent Loki crashing against a pillar, her shoulder blades nearly cracking in protest. There was no time to catch her breath as Thranduil swung on her. Their blades locked at the hilt, his body pressing her hard against the beam as he reached for a second blade at his belt. The calm in his eyes surprised her but she had no time to dwell, pushing off of the pillar with all her strength, only just shoving him back far enough to throw her body to the side, turning him with her as their blades refused to release.

They twisted the blades in tandem, moving opposite directions, blades zinging as they slid apart. Not waiting, he lunged at her again, and again, driving her back with the sharp force of each blow. Elven king and Aesir queen were all flashes of silver, and fluid motion as they danced to the sound of clashing blades. Legolas was out of reach, blocked by the shifting essence of his father, a far better warrior than she originally took him for. The focused fire in his eyes was unmistakable. He was blocking her retreat with his own motion the way water might force a rock to move. She had to wonder if he somehow predicted she would target his son.

Very well, she did not need a hostage anyway, they would only get in the way. Running and ducking into little cracks was easier if she was alone. Sword in hand, decision made, she vaulted onto the dais of the throne and out of his reach, racing for the edge to clear a jump. There was an exit near her several meters down, a leap she could easily clear. No telling where it would lead, but she would take it.

Loki's legs faltered, stopping her cold in confusion. She stumbled and crashed gracelessly the the second level, barely staggering to her feet before the white hot fire made itself known in her side. The long dagger sticking from between her ribs finally registered in her mind as she glanced down. The red haired one was on her feet, staring passively as guards finally swarmed from the doorway.

The blazing pain had her on her knees, the sword clattering from her hand. Her fingers pulled the blade from her flesh on ill instinct and tossed it down the steps. The sheer need to escape overrode her need to preserve magic, the desperation to run screaming more loudly than logic. She curled in on herself and let instinct take over as her seidr dissolved her presence, sifting her to an intangible nothingness as it carried her on the air, returning her back to to the farthest place she had been from this room. This spell could take her only short distances, and only to places she had been, but it transported her all the same.

Her body came back together in a flash of green, her crumpled figure materializing on the floor of her previous cell. The door still yawned open as she looked around to find herself thankfully alone.

There was an art to surrender, there always was. That had not been it!

* * *

AN: I'm sorry, I just had to keep up a little thing in my head about Loki. I had to make the red head of this world be another irritant to Loki, had to use the line from Avengers because I could just see this happening. Loki ha issues with red haired women with powerful skill and personalities. Tauriel is no Natasha, but they have some similarities if you think on it! I view her as a less dark BW, maybe?

I hope no one expected that to go perfectly, Loki's prone to trouble. My reasoning in the magical issues for Loki is that Mirkwood and Middle Earth is positively steeped in dark magic from the corruption and Sauron's approaching return. That is a lot of magic to counter for a very weakened Loki. I think she would be bound to have issues with it. And with her magic so low, as it is now, she's in no shape to just flick it off. And she's still emotional and smarting from being rejected by Odin. AND she killed her real father too, and I don't care how much she hated him, that would mess with her head. Sooo, my theory is that she would be a ticking time bomb of emotions. She already had a total spin out from too much information too fast, too many shocks, and she's still going to be unstable, thus the ending to this chapter.


	4. Fragility

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Fragility_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: I explored the feelings connected to all of them in this, the fears and needs driving them. There will be more of that later but this was the start of my own character exploration. The hard edges and softer sides of Thranduil and his elves as well as Loki. They all have a great deal of depth so in need of exploration, which is wish to do._

* * *

Loki clutched her head in both hands, staggering forward on unsteady legs. Her head was positively pounding and throbbing so hard her vision was tunneled. Pulsing pain could have told her everything she needed to know about her mistakes but struggling just to move confirmed it all. Her magic was dangerously low, and what was left was desperately working to knit the wound, a reflexive working she need not even tell it to do. Using the last of her magic to flee might have been her only choice but it cost her quite heavily. The tiny few drops of seidr she had left dedicated themselves to healing the gaping hole in her side.

No, not the best surrender she had ever pulled off in her life. Not the best negotiation either.

She recalled the chill in her bones previously but she could have sworn her marrow had turned to ice, slowly freezing her blood. The slight and painful shivering refused to stop, making her teeth chatter. Shock was most likely the cause of it. Those filthy monsters could not be frozen to death, they lived in ice and snow, and she was one of them. This reaction was nothing but the shock her body was going through but it did not stop the trembling.

Yesterdays black around her vision had returned so strongly she could hardly make out the path a she toddled down the steps - potentially deadly considering the substantial drop. Her feet kept moving, plunging her on, her upper body barely remaining upright. Loki was panting, one arm cradling her ribs while the other supported her along the wall to her left. Her feet scuffed the stone with every step, trembling legs not strong enough to pick them up to more than fast shuffling.

If not for the fact that the bread had already been used by her magic, she might have lost it. She was so light headed there might have been helium filling her skull and she never would have noticed. Misery would have been too light a word for her plight. Her typical stubbornness was really the only thing keeping her on the move at the present because death would have been a welcome blessing in her current state.

Elves! Elves and their arrows! She found herself hating elves, not as much as the spiders or gray beasts, but she hated them. Casting her out of the kingdom! Who did that weak imitation for a king think he was to order the queen of Asgard out? Granted, she had been deposed in the technical sense, betrayed by her adopted family, cast out like so many stolen treasures left to rot in the vault, but these prideful little mice did not need to know that. They would not be getting help from Asgard once she took back her rightful place.

A long moan rolled free when the toe of her boot caught on a step, forcing her to fall into the wall to avoid falling into the void below. She gagged on a few cries and curses, wishing for a split second that Frigga could be there to make her feel better as she always would. Any time she returned bartered by an outing with Thor, Frigga gathered her into those comforting arms and whispered little spells into her ear until she was better than before.

Of course, she would never reach such a place again, would never return to that home. She was lost in a veritable death trap soon to face horrible ends regardless of what she did next. She could never go home, and even if she did, it could never be as it once had been, would never feel as safe now that she knew the lies. There would be no more comfort in such things.

The fear of it all swelled within her and threatened to steal her drive to move on. Despair clawed up in her chest along with the longing to simply go back to a time when none of this had ever come to pass. She would give so much to go back, to trade all her current knowledge for the less painful lies she once knew. It had all been safer and less painful than what she was left to now.

A new sob from the ache in her heart tried to crowd out her mouth but she pushed it away, repressed foolish memories she had no use for. She was fighting for her life in a cruel world. Her family played no part in that besides being the reason for it. Mourning lost things had never been her way, revenge was! To hate was much easier and the hate, when allowed the fester, provided her with just enough drive to keep walking. One way or another, she would rain fire upon their heads for throwing her away and she would repay these elves in kind a well.

Loki' muscles spasmed in her chest, the reforming tissue trying to navigate to damage and knit it together, and her steps faltered. Stumbling blindly, she stumbled into a large room branching from the steps. Her body gave way and she crashed into a moderately soft, though noisy landing. It took he a moment or two to lift her head in order to gauge her surroundings, but once she did, she scrambled off the bag of what must have been grain. A storage room. Those were well used but the could also be excellent hiding places if one burrowed deeply enough.

On hands and knees, she crawled her way to the very back of the room, loathed to sink low enough to hide herself behind wheat sacks, but knew better than to refuse a gift when it was presented. While she wanted desperately to search for something to replenish her strength, she had nothing left to give. Her body had struggled as far a it would and more. Searching would be saved for the moment she could move. For now, she allowed her mind to switch into it's only defense, let herself hibernate.

* * *

The heavy sound of multiple falling boots echoed off the carved stone walls as parties searched in a vastly hurried, though thorough pursuit of the missing prisoner. Though she was presumed injured, having clearly bee caught by Tauriel's blade, she was considered no less of a threat. Without a proper understanding of those obvious hidden skills there was no way to quantify the perspective risk she posed.

Thranduil's glacial, calculating eyes swept over every shadow, every potential cover with an intensity capable of melting stone. His robes billowed around him in a mirror of the way the water crashed through the halls at the end of one corridor, his focus no less dangerous than the force of those same waves. It was exactly as he believed, she was a rare creature, nothing he had seen before. This Queen of Asgard was more than she appeared, more than even he might have expected. The wizards of his world could do many things, always with tricks hiding somewhere within their reach, she clearly was no different. Perhaps she was more kin to Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien.

He prowled like a caged cougar, though every ounce a king with his spine straight, arms folded properly behind his back, shoulders square, chin level, eyes sharp and alert as he stalked from the room at a brisk pace. He barked orders to guards searching farther down another hallways, his voice a sharpened blade, demanding the respect he deserved with its preeminence; the darkened tone leaving no question to his foul, tense mood.

Loki absolutely had to be found, wherever she was! She was dangerous and every second she was free was nothing but opportunity for her to harm any she found. None could say how far she might have gotten without first knowing how such a spell worked, but he knew she was yet within the great walls, he could still feel the magic rippling against her presence. The anomaly to his world, the lithe raven haired creature with sharp, doleful eyes was yet within his reach.

She would be found before she risked more lives. The Elven king would not feel a drop of ease until she was again within his sight. His guards had been unharmed by her show of strength, stiff and yet with pounding heads or ringing ears, but well enough. If she intended them harm, underestimating their bodies, or held back was unclear as of yet. She was calculating and he knew she must have reason for anything she did.

Two guards flanked him as they glided swiftly down another stairway, eyes shifting in every direction, searching for the illusive queen. With so much armor adorning them, they were far from silent in their advance, unlike the feather brush of sound Mirkwood's king would be giving away if alone. He could have disbursed them to search alone but saw no point when she would know they were searching.

Tauriel and Legolas would find her in silence if he could not. Though the thought of Legolas nearing her gave him no more ease than anything else. There had been no mistaking her intent, the burning focus in her eyes when she looked to his son. The little creature saw a target, a way to bring a king to heel. She could not hope to use the king himself or risk bringing down an entire army upon her head is a single way of desperation, but take the son of the king, and time would stop.

If she could manage to catch hold of him with that magic of hers he had no doubt she would use him as a shield. He had seen the glow at her fingers when she neared him, knew she was ready to spring on him when she dared not touch the ruler. Always strike the king's child, any with even a remote leaning toward the cruel dealings of a palace knew it for the weakness it was. That weakness ... he would not allow he to touch his son, not if he had a drop of power within him, that he privately vowed.

Such a being though, such a creature could be of some use. If he could indeed control her, there were immense possibilities. Such power exhibited, if she could be brought under his charge, he might indeed have a weapon worth its weight. Now that he had heard whispers of Thrain sightings and stirs that Thorin was moving it could be only a matter of time before things grew darker.

There were also birds venturing nearer to the Lonely Mountain. These were darkening days in Middle-Earth and he could not deny that it weighed heavily upon him. Try as he might to protect his people, there was only so much he could do to shut out the ever growing darkness.

Having powerful allies could yet be of some value. Her words had indeed swayed him even past his anger, discomfort at her presence, and pride. An offer of alliance to a people potentially as powerful as the queen herself was an offer he could not be deaf to. He sensed her need, even as he moved up the steps, and it did give him pause. If given a moment or two more, he would have considered her words again after he had allowed her to brew in her desperation, wringing more promises from her. She had surprised him, however. Once it fell from his hands there had been no calling it back.

As it stood now, she would not willingly come to his side. However, she might not be so immune to coercion. She had been desperate enough to kneel, desperate to remain within his walls, under his protection. There was something she desperately needed from him, be that protection from Orcs or something else, he did not yet know, but she needed him. That was something he could use to his own advantage.

"We have located her!" Called a guard from far below, drawing his eyes down the tears of stone to the figure.

Thranduil lost not time in getting to the little band, their weapons all drawn and ready as they awaited him. As he slipped into one of the many storage spaces he found Tauriel and Legolas stood in the back, eyes darting up only feelingly to greet him before they again focused on the target. Each had weapons draws and ready. His steps were silent as he approached, eyes cast down with the focus of the others until he saw her.

There, amid sacks of grain, waves of raven hair splayed all around her, was Loki - she looked every bit a fallen queen now. Eyelids closed, dark circles under them almost black, she looked in poor health. Her skin held no color at all, deathly white, even more so with her hair so dark against her. Those chiseled cheekbone and sharp features seemed all the more dramatic and prominent in the low light of the torches at the door. She looked boneless the way she lay, vulnerable and prone. Her chest rose and fell in slow motion, shallow.

They let him scrutinize her before Tauriel, bow at the ready, asked quietly, "Do you wish me to finish her, your majesty?"

They of course, waited for the final word from him before daring to act. By the stance of each one, so coiled with tension, they wanted to finish her instantly. Tauriel, he could read by the tension in her voice and the vibrating rage just barely hiding under the surface that she desperately wanted vindication for the earlier slight, her allowance of this dark haired creature to catch her. The wound on her leg was bound and well forgotten but not so the damage to the captain's spirit of a lioness. The icy tightness in her forest eyes screamed her desire to blot out the black mark to her usual perfection. Tauriel had let this one under her skin and she wanted nothing more than to finish it here and now.

Legolas was the same, though he was deferring to her obviously stronger need to clear her record. He needed only to look around him to find all his people in a similar state. Pride had been wounded among them since the very first moment they met this fallen queen. Some part of him said that was reason enough to keep her near, to have a visceral reminder to them that they had become complacent.

Silence fell, his eyes still assessing every detail, coolly calculating his options in his mind, letting them spin around at his whim, "Not quite yet." The warm, melting baritone of his voice quietly defied any to argue once he passed judgement, "Perhaps, she may yet be of use to us. If nothing more," his eyes narrowed in a familiar haughty sneer directed down his nose at Loki, chin lifting, "we would do well to wring answers from her before she dies."

The declaration might not have pleased any of them but they refused to show it, only nodding. The promise of potentially being allowed to question her or the fact that she might be executed later might have softened that blow. It mattered little whether they liked it or not, his attention was far more focused on the way Legolas was shifting closer to her, ready to scoop her up.

"Legolas, do not touch her." His voice was stern but veiled the sudden panic he felt rising so inexplicably at the thought that she might be feigning her condition, so he surged forward, eyes sharp as he glared at his heir, "You may go, return to your usual duties." He did not miss the flash of indignation passing behind those blue-gray eyes, the defiance aching to bubble up.

The elfling swallowed it down and nodded, stiffly gliding from the room as if he had been slapped across the face. Thranduil's jaw tightened, not watching his son leave, pretending to notice nothing of the chill from the retreating figure. Legolas was too young to understand the fragility of his own life, assured of his own invincibility. In the face of such a powerful and obviously sly creature, there was no potential of his allowance that child to risk it unknowingly. Not that the Elvenking would ever allow him to deduce the reason for any dismissal, it would only cause him to hate those decisions all the more if he knew they were driven by fear. That free spirit would never like to have his wings clipped, would resent being protected in any way.

No, he would not give credence to the idea by gazing after an angry son, instead, he carefully lowered himself down, extending a hand to touch her forehead with the backs of his fingers. She was cold to the touch and she shivered when he withdrew his hand but she stirred no further in response than that. Clearly her condition was quite poor, maybe growing worse in the cool of the earth. He did not have knowledge of her kind but he could clearly see that she was far less the woman he had seen in the throne room. His proximity to her had the guards shifting carefully forward, everyone had such a weakness of worry within their souls.

Reaching for her again, taking her by the shoulders to lift her up slightly, he sought the wound in her side. It surprised him just how delicate she felt in his hands, so small and breakable now where she seemed anything but not so long before. Cradling the back of her neck and shoulders in one arm, he made to examine the injury, but nearly choked on what he found - rather the lack of it. There a rip in the dress and ample dried blood to evince the injury, but try as he might, he found no gaping wound. All that remained was angry and puckered skin. In such a minuscule amount of time, without trace of herbs that he could find, she had healed her own wound.

That on its own was reason enough to examine her further. Such a skill would serve them more than well to possess in any time, but more of all in times of coming unrest. Yes, she could be useful indeed! Thranduil eased her out of his arms, still careful of her, unsure what to make of her. He would speak with her the very moment she was again walking in the waking world.

"Bring her to the healing room. She will need attention if we are to gain anything further from her." His spine stiffened even further as he stood, chin lifting and shoulders squaring more sharply as he turned and exited the small room.

* * *

Loki jolted awake, arms and legs twitching and grabbing at the air. A gasp was on her lips, eyes widening as her violent motion rewarded her with fire running through her tenderized body. The last she remembered, she had been stumbling through hallways to escape and could not remember falling into sleep. The softness beneath her and the warm blanket draped over her now did not exactly coincide with that memory but it was a welcome sort of change indeed.

Her tongue licked at her dry lips, feeling how parched her throat was. It would have been quite nice to have some water brought to her about this time. The olden days in a not so distant past when people brought her things in the morning, she had not appreciated those moments nearly enough.

The room was all carved and spiraling stone, much like everything else in this underground kingdom. White cloth hung delicately from places above as well as twists of flowers and herbs in some sort of curtain work. The look of the room was much brighter than her cell had been, far less dismal, even a little cheerful. There was a fire dancing in a hearth just beside her and she gratefully reveled in the warmth. That blanket and the fire helped to quell the horrible chill even though she could still feel it.

She almost felt her brain itself ripple, like it was turning onto its side and down another way with the most intense vertigo sensation she could ever recall feeling. To say it was unpleasant would have been levity itself. Her hands moved to cradle her head, eyes screwed shut until the feeling passed. After a moment her eyes drifted open once more. While she did not relish the idea of moving in any sense she was also sure she had little choice. If she was going to escape she would have to do it while no one was watching her. She might make it away if they thought her still asleep.

Gingerly, she eased herself into a sitting position, sliding her legs to dangle from the side of the bed. A deep breath was all she allowed herself before she made for the door to the right of that fire. The moment she tried to take a step, her left leg buckled, bringing the other to follow and she crumpled gracelessly to the stone floor. Her eyes focused on the stone as she stared at her fists. The fall had not hurt her but it was less than pleasing. Even so, she could not bring herself to really care, numb to most things including anger.

There was a distant sound of music coming from somewhere above, a soothing sound that nearly lulled her to sleep where she was. She could not sleep here though or they might return. Unconscious, they had clearly taken pity on her, honor preventing them from finishing her. That same reasoning would no longer apply and she would face the self same fate as before, tossed to the horrors of this world.

"If you are watching or listening, you despicable gatekeeper, be sure that I will repay this grand favor." She muttered, eyes still cast to the ground, "Because I am only too aware that it is entirely your fault, Heimdall. I all began with you and your wounded pride, letting Thor rush off to Jotunhiem! None of this would have happened if not for your treachery!"

That hate was all she really had left to tap into and she would use it, struggle with into until she could force herself onward by will alone. Blinking rapidly to clear the haze, she tried weakly and struggled to her unsteady feet. It took her a humiliating amount of time to get to that door and she nearly fell against it, clinging to the handle for support. Her chest was heaving as she struggled with the door, desperately trying to pull it open.

The opposing magic tingled at the tips of her fingers and into her palms as she pulled. To her utter dismay and ultimate frustration, she found she did not have enough seidr within her to even risk the low level spell she used before, and surely not the one above it she had fallen back on to open the door. Once the knowledge collided into her skull she allowed herself to slide down the door to her knees, forehead resting against the metal in defeat.

"You truly must be weak, or perhaps I am simply learning how best to cage you." The words were low and sharp, fraught with self congratulatory undertones of smirking lips. "Might I take this as an indication that no longer need concern myself with your escape attempts?"

Loki was scrambling frantically to get to her uncooperative feet while still clinging desperately to what precious little grace she still held in her body - she only just managed to stand with the door holding her up at her back, "I cannot yet give answer to that, if you indeed wish my honesty." Her chin lifted defiantly as she stared down Mirkwood's king in his only slightly simplified robes, "If my memory is still quite what I believe it is, I already told you I was weakened by my fall from the Bifrost into your charming domain."

The crown of twisted nature no longer sat upon his head but she was surprised to find that he looked no less intimidating without the sign of power. His stance was strong, arms linked behind his back, feet planted firmly at shoulder width as he studied her with that same penetrating intensity that felt like he could suffocate her under its force alone - it made her want to beg him to look anywhere but at her lest he find all her secrets. In the perfectly crafted, unusually textured, sliver and bronze sheen of a garment, long and flowing to the floor, sword removed from his waist, he looked no less able to demolish her somehow.

Though he was smiling - no, he was clearly smirking like a wolf - he looked more sinister than when he did not bother to curve those sensuous lips. Having the full and very heavy force of his undivided attention directed onto her was more terrifying than it had any right to be. Perhaps she only felt it so keenly because she was barely able to remain on her feet but she felt it regardless. Had she been standing without use of a prop it would have taken all her courage not to back away or seek out something substantial to maintain her distance from him.

His head tilted lazily though still uncannily eloquent as he rounded the bed to draw nearer to her, though where he emerged from was a mystery, "You did. It seems, in this, you were veridical."

The implications hidden beneath his saccharine tone were enough to stir her belligerent nature, "Quite so, as clearly I have only the deepest respect for you and your abundant authority. I would never dream of speaking anything but open words to you, my liege." Loki was pouring it on thick, complete with a languid smile.

The razor edge in his smile softened in what she thought could have been honest amusement, the slightest upward twitch to one brow, then it was gone, "This Gatekeeper... is he the true reason for you being here?" His feet crossed one over the other as he approached, "Or did I gather something incorrectly for your words?"

Loki could not conceal the widening of her eyes as she swallowed a gasp, the understanding that he had seen far too much, watched her total vulnerability when she believed herself alone was a blow too many to her already bruised composure, "How long were you hiding in the shadows?" The usual underlying fury, pride, and insolence that she held tightly up as a shroud dissipated into ruins, "Do you typically make watching your prisoners flounder like newborns you entertainment?" Her shoulders dropped with close to an audible thud as her eyes fell to his feet.

"Not always, only in cases of the clever ones full of subterfuge." His own hubris diminished considerably, his own tension fading somewhat, "But you have yet to answer my question. This Gatekeeper, what occurred with him?"

Loki pushed off of the door and walked with as much dignity as she could scrape together to a chair that looked comfortable enough, "Yes, he and four others betrayed me." She sank into it, more grateful for the support than she ever should have been. "That was the reason for my fall. It was no accident, simply a trap I saw much too late."

"What occurred?" It was not a demand but a real question.

Her smile was soft as she looked at a more relaxed king before her, though she had no idea what caused the change, "If I vow to tell you tomorrow, will you permit me a bit more sleep?"

The hardness did not return at quite its previous ferocity but it returned none the less to those eyes, "In light of your condition, I shall offer you that concession." The familiar arrogance returned as if it had never left, "However, I must suggest you consider bathing in that time to rid yourself of the Orc stench, It is most unpleasant."

Had she been less confused, less drained for her desire to fight, or less sure he might be making a valid point, she would have been insulted, "Orcs?"

"The beasts you spoke of are called thus, and you have yet to be rid of the filth of them. Riding yourself of the smell could do your recovery no ill, I will add."

Her humor returned to her slowly, peeking out at him through the mild spark in her eyes, "How am I to be sure you will not lurk about while I bathe as you did before? Have I a promise that my virtue shall remain quite whole?"

Both dark brows arched with incredulous surprise, "You suggest that I or one of my people would do such a thing?" Indignation crept into his tone as he continued, "I assure you that I am in no such habit. Do not mistake us for Dwarfs!" Moving with dignified composure, he strolled toward the door, "Clothing shall be sent up for you shortly. Please replace your current rags with them. Do not attempt to escape, however, I advise you now that you have so completely ensured my guards distaste for you."

Whatever he meant by it all, she was fairly sure he was quite serious. For the present time she had every intention to obey and trust him with whatever tiny piece of herself she dared. She was secure in his word on this if nothing else. Though she had known him only shortly, she could see much of the same qualities in his speeches as she herself employed when intent against honesty. A liar could typically sense another liar's nature, a bird of a feather. Even so, she was well beyond caring or even attempting to determine if she was to be proven correct.

His point about the bath was more than valid and she was only too inclined to accept once she had slept just a bit more. The potential of escape dashed she had no further reason to struggle. Her eyes were closed before he had closed the door behind him but she felt safe enough not to watch him go. He was showing her more than enough kindness to put her worry temporarily to rest regardless of to wisdom in it. For now she would rest and attempt to salvage her strength.

* * *

AN: This chapter was such a pain to write! Thranduil just would not work with me! I had to get out all my Thranduil music and listen that just to appease him.


	5. Shadow of Kings

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Shadow of Kings_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: Thank you for all the reviews! They encouraged me and are really the only reason you have this! (I was guilted lol) Love you all!_

_To the chapter name...Basically, the shadows they all walk in, because each of them, if you think on it, walks in a shadow of someone. Also how reputations and fears follow people. Or maybe more how their view of themselves is tinted by what they grew up hearing or understanding, the opinions of others that shaped their ideas._

_In addition, I see Odin and Thranduil as being somewhat cold fathers, but I seem them as being very vastly different inwardly with their children. Legolas and Thor are slightly (and I mean slightly, relax everyone) similar in some ways, especially in the very beginning. Lots of arrogance and over confidence. The fathers though, they are harsh but their reasons are different and their approach is also very different. Though cold, Thranduil is fiercely protective and careful, but Odin sort of just tosses his children like the birds shove the chicks from the nest to see if they can fly._

* * *

The haze of sleep lifted suddenly when the small clinking of glass reached Loki's ears and panic stirred fresh in her beating heart. She stayed still in the chair, never having gotten the energy to get back to the bed and obviously not enough to bathe. Someone was very, uncomfortably close to her now though, one she had not heard enter. The king warned her that his people were less than thrilled with her and she instantly replayed that warning mentally when she felt the heat of the second figure.

It worsened exponentially when she cracked an emerald eye open to see to her dismay, the fire haired female perched beside her in a chair that had not been there last she had seen the room. The she-elf had a dainty cup cradled in her fingers, eyes fixed firmly on the deposed queen. There was a calm assurance to her posture but also coiled tension not unlike a snake in wait for a victim to stray nearer. The Aesir could quite physically feel the tension in the elven woman and it did not bode well for her in the least.

It did her heart no service to be taken so by surprise nor to be so near an enemy when she was all too aware that she stood little chance against he now. There would be no grand escape from her thrown blades this time.

"Well," Tauriel set the cup on the table carefully, "you awaken at last?" Her voice was demure but her eyes were burning fires of simmering anger.

"You are far too silent..." Loki muttered irritably, "This is the second time you have sneaked up on me." Fear was prickling her skin but she refused to show it, not betray her concern, internally checking her reserve of seidr and still finding it lacking. There were a few tricks she could use if it came to that but she did not want to risk missing her mark. "Come to gloat, Captain?" She nearly snarled.

"I came to see your condition for myself." Tauriel's tone was stiff and edged, hinting to her obvious desire - she wanted an excuse to fight.

She would not get it. "Is that so?" Loki simpered, unable to resist her inevitable instinct to cover her weakness with snide remarks or attitude. "What have you decided? Was my sleeping pattern somehow entertaining to observe?"

"Who is Thor?" The elf had not missed a beat, calmly lowering a strike, satisfaction clear in her face as she watched the color-what little there was-drain from the other woman's face.

That had not been expected, and Loki could not manage to hide the shock quite fast enough, cursing how she was slow to snatch her composure back from the brink. "Pardon?"

"You spoke the name several times. Is he a dwarf? Descendant of Durin?" Those sharp eyes were so fixed on the Aesir that nothing would be missed in reactions.

Loki frowned, confusion written plainly on her face now, "Why would I associate with a dwarf? What in the nine realms is a **Durin** and why would you assume I know your foolish little clans? I believe I established that I have no familiarity with your little world!" Her dark brows dipped even lower, "Moreover, why should I care? I am not bound by any oath nor reason to tell you anything, little mouse!"

Tauriel leaned back in her chair, prefect posture never slipping, and she actually laughed, a darkened lilt to it, "The way you speak...I begin to believe you are a queen. You remind me of our king in some moments." The mirth was gone as quickly as it came,"But you are wrong, you do have obligation to tell me. I am the captain of the Guard and it is my prerogative to question prisoners, therefore, you shall answer my inquiry."

Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Do I detect a threat in your words, Captain? Take care when dealing out threats for one never knows what could come of them." She relaxed intentionally, fixing her posture into something more fitting a queen on a throne, "Tell me, did your king send you to interrogate me?"

The elf's spine stiffened farther, even if her face gave nothing away, "Questioning of prisoners must be prompt."

Loki's eyes widened with a dark spark, upper body leaning forward with interest, elbow propped on the arm of the chair, "Oh," her smile turned predatory, "then he didn't...you came quite on your own!" Loki was positively brimming with strange excitement over that understanding, "Now that is interesting! Stepping out against your king for the sake of pride?"

Tauriel shifted, eyes growing colder, "It was not pride that brought me here. You are dangerous, we have all seen it to be true, and I intend to find out how large a threat you pose to my people." A blade was between her fingers just that quickly even though she obviously had no intention of using it yet, "I will use ant means I have need of. Your cooperation will decide how pleasant your stay in our lands will be."

It was Loki's turn to laugh sardonically, "I see! It is trouble in paradise! Beginnings of mutiny then?" She watched the elf turn ridged and saw the reflexive protest jumping to her lips, but she headed her off, "Mutiny might be too strong, but you...are not opposed to going against an order, I can see that within you." A razor edged smile directed at the captain had her uncomfortable instantly, "I like this! The good little minion disobeying orders because of fear for her little clan. It is sweet, really!"

The harsh bark spoke more to the correct deductions, "Answer my question, filth!"

Loki merely chuckled, not insulted but vindicated by the response, "Thor is my brother, traitor to my kingdom, our father, and now to me as well. In his plan to steal the throne, he sneaked back into Asgard with the help of four traitors, then lured me to the bridge between worlds." Loki steepled her fingers under her chin as she leaned back, "There, he tried to kill me, but succeeded instead in causing my fall -the best he could manage- landing me here." Her cold eyes studied the other woman to judge how the words were received, "So forgive my irritability while the traitor my father banished for his crimes is now ruling in my place."

"What crimes caused this banishment?" Her response was quick and emotionless.

"It was the needless slaughter of another Kingdoms people in hopes of starting a war. The entire kingdom would have been destroyed had our father not arrived and ordered him to cease, promptly banishing him after. Now he rules beside his four war monger friends...free to rain havoc on all the people I swore oath to protect and keep peace with." Loki shrugged lightly, "Perhaps I over reacted when your people attacked me? But I believe I have reason to be on edge."

"You thought yourself free to rain havoc on my people, those I swore to protect." Sharp, cunning eyes drilled into Loki like swords, "It seems I see a connection in the family already."

The dig hurt more than the little elf could have guessed without knowing far more of the truth than she did, but Loki only chuckled darkly, menacing in her every fiber, "I harmed none of your people, though I could have, and I only struck in defense of my own life. I hardly see the resemblance."

"I believe you to be the sort that would never see wrong in your own acts, only in those of others. You are the sort to always justify your deeds while condemning others for similar acts. Ill qualities in those that rule." Tauriel's tone was clipped.

The anger sparking in her green eyes was difficult to hide as her hands shook slightly, "Again, unlike Thor, I did your people no harm since I arrived. You attacked me and I defended myself. I am nothing like Thor!"

The elf stood suddenly, hair swaying at her back, "That remains to be seen. Those that protest most against being monsters are often closer to tyrants than they will admit."

The shaking remained but Loki kept silent as she watched the elleth leave the room, wanting so badly to strike at her but knowing it to be ill advised. Her eyes took in the sway of her hips and the way her long hair swung like a pendulum perfectly down the center of her back, perfect posture, but a slight uneven hitch in her steps that did not fit the pace the Aesir remembered. If the elf felt the glare at her back she gave no indication as she closed the door without looking back. A spell took hold once again with a slight hiss most would not have noticed, but it indicated clearly that she was trapped once again in the room to await her next visitor.

Loki rested her head back against the chair with a growling sight, eyes turning to the vines and looping cloth over her head. Being compared to Thor was no less infuriating for its familiarity than the unintentional lines drawn to her true lineage and the monsters hiding in the shadows. The king she deposed with her own hands before the great Odin, he would haunt her for eternity, crawling within her very blood. Two kings of two different realms and yet they would never leave her be, never let her be free of them, forever nipping at her heels viciously. In many way, they would stalk her steps even more than Thor, her supposed brother that she had been overshadowed by her entire life.

As she saw it now, there were monsters in both worlds, some just hiding in flawless skin. Monsters came in all forms, some were simply more obvious than others. At least that was what she thought just now, a revelation she might hold onto or also might forget.

The swell of rage faded rather quickly, taking much too much energy to maintain and it was easier to allow it to fade so she could rest once more, pushed down inside to allow a numbness to take its place. Some part of her had to wonder if the captain knew more than she indicated considering her word choices. Perhaps the traitorous lips of hers had muttered more than Thor's name in her sleep. If Tauriel knew nothing then she was simply better at interrogation than she even knew. Either way, she could relax slightly now that she was alone again.

No one would be around for some time, which meant no one would bring her anything to quell her bodies needs.

Her eyes fixed on the abandoned cup with a thirst she could scarcely remember ever having felt. On any normal day she would be repulsed at the mere thought of drinking after another but even the thought of the fire haired elf having tested it first could not drive the desire away. Resolve weakened, she reached with shaking fingers and coiled them around the warm China and quickly brought it to her lips. The once hot, now only warm liquid slipped down her throat in a heavenly glide the likes of which she would remember the rest of her days. It tasted sweet, not unlike the water, pure as the tea of Vanaheim, but deeply herbal.

Loki's eyes widened as she realized it was a mixture of healing herbs for she had sampled enough in her time to recognize the feel of them entering her blood. Healing herbs...yes, for she had injured Tauriel in battle. She had forgotten entirely! Oh, that did taste sweet!

There could be no denying the smile curving her lips as she took another sip, doubly pleased by it now. The she elf was in recovery from a wound, and moreover, healing herbs would greatly help her own body. Twice a victory! The tea, if it was indeed that, tasted all the better for her revelation. The cup warmed her hands and the liquid eased the throbbing in her throat.

What in life could be better than revenge served over tea?

At any rate, she would have need of a plan. Once the cup was drained, she slowly eased to her feet and headed toward the bath. There was much she needed to decide and she could do little proper thinking while she was as miserable as she was. A bath in hot water would do her good and speed her mental workings, so she drew herself the hottest water the bath was capable...even if it took her an admittedly long time to understand how to work it...

The tatters of her destroyed garments were not difficult to remove after all the abuse the straps and buckles went through, almost falling off her with a little prompting to be draped over a chair. She would see what she might do with them later, but not now. The bit of cold was just made worse against her skin for lack of protection and the steaming water looked all the better for it.

Very gingerly, she eased herself into the water, instantly being freshly aware of ever injury upon her body recently, even if the wounds were closed, she felt it keenly. After a moment of teeth grinding pain, it eased and she was able to relax, sinking as deeply into the water as possible, relishing the heat seeping into her shivering body. She could fall asleep again but she knew she best not.

Her eyes drifted up once again as her mind settled into the task of plotting out her next steps. The king would be seeking her out again for answers she promised him which would give her the much needed chance to negotiate with him. She would submit to his whims, placate him and give him reason to keep her. Men were easy enough to manipulate if the woman was wise enough to use his mind against him, use his need to be dominant to her own advantage. Submitting to a man, or giving him the illusion of surrendering, held more power than openly fighting him. They had a need to play the hero and protect the little lady of the castle, she had seen that time enough with Thor - he never could resist playing the hero to the ladies no matter how many times Loki tried to tell him it was nothing but a ploy.

If she learned nothing from her family, even from Frigga, she had learned about the stupidity of musclebound men. This king might not have been like them but she was sure if she played she moves correctly, she could play him as easily as she might any of the men she had ever met. Thranduil was intelligent, no blundering warhammer, but so was she. Better still, she sensed that he wanted to listen to her because he was curious! Curiosity, she had learned by personal errors, was as great a weakness as the arrogance of her brother, and she could use it! The mystery of all that she was would bring him to her because he was a mind that never stopped working and running, a mind such as that needed answers to questions. Leaving him with more questions every time would ensure that he kept her.

Her long fingers rubbed circles in her temples as she worked out exactly how she wanted her next encounter with the Elven king to proceed. It would be a dance between them, one she could not afford to step wrong in. She had to have a few good and solid plans in place to keep him guessing, keep him under her own spell. He needed to comply with her without realizing that he was, which was a tricky sort of thing to play at with anyone but the band of foolish three, even Sif was more challenging.

As the water began to cool she realized how long she must have been hiding in the bath. The cold was no longer being chased from her body by the heat and it was useless to remain in it any longer. Grudgingly, she rose, plucking free the plug to let the water drain before gathering a towel around herself as she slipped past the dividers and curtains hiding the bath from the rest of the room. Her wet feet stuck to the floor with each step as she padded forward, running her fingers through her slick curls to smooth the wet hair into a semblance of normalcy.

If nothing else, she felt more like herself now that the filth had been cleaned away. It was refreshing to be back to her usual self, beautiful as always. It would be much better to see the king again now that she looked less like a savage from some swamp. If she did a bit of work on her dress she might be able to give it back a little of its former glory in order to seem less the pitiful waif from the distant streets.

Her brows creased as she looked to the chair, noticing the clear lack of clothing upon it where she knew very well she had left her dress before she entered the little space of privacy. Her stomach dropped to her toes in disgust as the obvious became clear to her. Once again, someone had entered without her noticing. Either she had been too lost in thought or her senses had dropped horrible in this realm!

These elves were just a bit too good at what they did, which seemed to be sneaking through trees and playing spy at every moment of the day. They slithered in and out like spiders... no, not spiders, she took that back! Anything but spiders, ever again! Mice would be a much better comparison! Not disconcerting at all, these elves!

Oh, yes, she would need to be extremely careful! No false move would go unnoticed, she supposed. Their keen sense would make life more interesting.

Not that it changed anything, for she would still proceed, just more carefully.

Loki strolled to her bed in irritation, eyeing the new dress obviously intended to replace hers as it waited for her in a delicate drape over the pillows. She reached for it and shook it out, her nose crinkling as she eyed it. It was various shades of green - at least they had given her that - in an odd texture material, a little like silken leaves woven together somehow. It had an odd sheen but it seemed more like something Frigga might wear, not matronly, just a bit too delicate for what Loki normally would wear. Doubtless, Frigga would have picked something very like it for her to wear to some grand event. It would make her look the delicate flower in any court, accentuating her womanly features with frills and flowing material - something Sif would tease her without mercy for ever putting on. Thor would snicker and make too many comments about how he had forgotten how delicate his sister was or how he would be more careful to protect her the next time they left Asgard.

In a word, she loathed it! Not a scrap of metal, leather, or even a tiny bit of armor! What did they think she was, some tiny maiden incapable of battle? Tauriel was given better than this! Was she expected to glide about with flowers in hand, expected to create tapestries in the meadow the way her mother might? This was insulting! Not that she had a choice but to wear it without her own clothes.

Her inner tirade slowed as she realized it was not terribly unlike things she had seen on Thranduil. Different, less extravagant, but rather similar. Her shoulders drooped, frown deepening as she pondered over the problem. Perhaps it was not so horrible, not quite the insult she expected. It could have been an olive branch, giving credence to who she said she was. The world was a confusing place.

* * *

The lights in the room were dim, just small flickering candles in a few places to break up the darkness. They cast the sleek figure in grotesque shapes on the floor and walls as he moved, elongating his height impossibly in the shadow. Long fingers flexed and coiled around each other as the great elven king paced back and forth in his chamber, silver robes tangling around his ankles as they attempted to keep up with his motion, his cold eyes searching the walls for answers that refused to surface. He always paced in such a way when he was alone. Oropher had done the very same, pacing when he believed none could see. The great leader of the past never allowed any to see him fret over anything, always a perfect picture of lighthearted confidence to all, only allowing doubt to crease his strong features when the world was shut away.

A much younger elf, skulking and used to hiding, always saw. Thranduil watched his father pace this exact stretch of floor so long that now he could do little else when his mind was occupied similarly. Yes, in fact, there was evidence on the tiles of the two generations of kings having walked the floor, enough that he was forced to have a rug placed over in to hide the evidence. Like father, like son, it seemed!

His sleek chin dropped slightly at those memories, platinum hair brushing itself in caresses against his cheeks, a longing creeping into his heart for the wise advice of his father, ashamed to think he might know so much better what should be done than his predecessor. In his heart, he never felt equal to Oropher, never supposed he lived up to the title Oropherion. The subjects in the kingdom did not think him adequate any more than his own mental doubt. They never questioned him to his face, waiting until he was not within range to call him the "temperamental" king. He remembered times in brighter days when it was not so but all things had been tainted when the woods turned dark.

They loved him still as any would love their king and protector, he knew this as well. They obeyed his word and hovered protectively about him, instinctively shielding him without thought if a hint of danger was in the air. It was their way, the Silvan way, for he was the great "father" of the wood, entrusted with the kingdom as Oropher had been. It was his to protect and he was above them no matter what more he might be. He was closer to the Valar than they ever would be, and so they revered him. He was their king and it would always be so, and with that came a trust so deep it could not be broken. The day he watched his father fall in battle was the day that trust had been given over to him, and shelter them he would, for he had long ago watched too many of his people die. It was then that he vowed never to let them be crushed again.

His head raised defiantly, banishing the doubts clawing his mind, shoulders squaring to their usual posture. No matter now what questions filed his mind for he was king and the choices were his to make. The heaviness of the crown rested on none but his own head. Thranduil alone must decide how to deal with his Kingdoms newest threat and potential alliance. Be she a weapon to hold and use or be she his destruction remained up to fate. What he did now, the manner in which he handled the witch would determine the outcome for ill or good and he knew it all too well.

The Sindarin king hoped for the later most deeply. He was in great need of a powerful weapon! There was no question in his mind that he must gain her loyalty somehow. For all his wealth, he could not afford a new enemy of such power. This queen of a different land was an asset that he was in great need of and he had no intention of letting her slip from his grasp.

She was cunning though, like an elf, and he was only too aware that he must tread carefully. Something in her was dangerous, unstable and volatile, he could sense it even if he had yet to name it properly. Perhaps it was hate, perhaps it was madness hidden beneath her beauty, he could not tell just yet. Reading such a woman was a task he supposed would be worthy to a great quest of courage, perhaps worse than facing a dragon, a quest he must undertake if he intended to gain her help.

She was too powerful to let free and he knew this well even if his people worried his allowance of her continued presence was tempting death. The only options were to kill her before she could destroy them or risk her growing strong in order to gamble on her future use. Not his most winning or desired set of choices. Killing her risked incurring the wrath of her kingdom but letting her live could eventually be the ruin of his. It was imperative that he get ahead of the potential carnage, head off anything she might do and bind her loyalty to him.

Things could have gone so much better if she had waited a short while more before attacking, if stress and tempers had been slightly lower on part of all involved...

"What troubles you so, Adar?" A strong voice behind him demanded attention calmly.

Thranduil very nearly jumped, eyes snapping to the entryway as he started at his son, so tall and strong... A slight mixture of his mother, himself, and even Oropher. Looking at the ellon gave him chills at times, especially when Legolas stood as he did now, shrouded slightly in shadow, drawing mind and heart to souls set sail, but stirring strange pride that could not clearly be explained.

Thanduil's breath caught slightly, a smile, wan though it was, drawn to his lips for memory of startling Oropher from his reverie in similar ways. Like father, like son, indeed.

Upon reflex, he found himself offering the same response the king before had spoken when posed with that question, the same air of superiority within the tone, "What causes you to believe I am troubled?"

"You pace so when you are thinking but only pace in the darkness when you are worried." Was Legolas' reply, a triumphant smirk threatening his lips as he stared at his father, almost daring him to refute those words.

Thranduil locked his arms casually behind his back as he resumed pacing without even realizing it, "Am I not allowed to ponder? The lighting has absolutely nothing to do with my state of mind, merely my distraction."

The ellon strolled into the room and pointedly began to light a few more candles, banishing most of the shadows as the self congratulatory gleam in his eye grew, "Does your mind dwell on our problematic guest?"

"Why do you suppose it is she, the displaced queen that dominates my thoughts when there are so many more important things to dwell on?" Thranduil could not manage to drop away his own defenses even before his son, "There are spider nets ever increasing in frequency as well as other such creatures within the wood. Is it not more likely for me to think on these things?" He held up a finger as if to sneak in yet another point, "I have also seen the Brown Wizard on the move, straying too near our borders and I have no intention of letting his shattered mind wander over my lands." Even so, the fact that he was defending himself meant he was not yet on the winning side.

"The spiders did not engage us in battle upon your dais nor vanish and flee to the cellars." Legolas began to pace in circles around his father, matching his pace in slow and wide arches, "Nor did we hold the Brown Wizard in your dungeon, Adar. I believe my logic to be reasonably sound."

"And what if it is the sorceress I think over?" He halted before the elfling, using the slight height difference to his advantage as he stared into those blue-gray eyes, wondering how his heir had managed to gain the supposed upper hand, "What does it matter?"

"It matters to me if it troubles you and if she endangers our people! I wish to help." Legolas met his father's gaze without flinching, shoulders drawn back and his chin held high.

The Elvenking's eyes widened as he stared into that handsome and determined face of innocent youth. The ellon had seen battles, had fought alongside warriors, but he had yet to be ruined by the horrors Thranduil knew to be waiting in the world. He had lost many, but he had never stood over a mountain drenched in the blood of every friend he had ever held dear, nor watched helplessly as a king and father was stolen away. He had never screamed to the sky until he had no voice, raw with grief so deep the spirit would never breathe fully again.

Remaining king also protected Legolas in the way Oropher had not protected Thranduil. The crown drew away life from the one holding it as if it were a living thing to leech life from its host. As a prince, Legolas could hunt with the warriors, prowl the woods, dance under the night sky, or run with the deer. A crown was like shackles and it would steal that away from him in an instant, chaining him to the halls of Limrond for the rest of his days. He wanted to spare his child the weight of a world and people upon his shoulders. The crown was too heavy for one so young and so free... and a bit foolish.

Thranduil's voice was soft and quiet as a whisper, "Oh, Nithig, so eager to take on the troubles of the world..." His hand reached out unbidden before he realized what he was doing, the backs of his fingers resting against the ellon's cheek. Legolas did not move, hardly seemed to breathe, eyes widening slightly as he stared into the unreadable orbs of his father, unused to shows of affection in recent years. Senses returned quickly and the Elvenking withdrew his touch, dropping his arm back to its place behind him. "But you needn't." Once again, his voice was deep and the aloof chill had set into it as if the tenderness had never been there at all.

He could not allow this to continue, he had no choice but to strike down the coming ideas of his ambitious child. Inadvertently, he would put himself at risk and even give her the advantage. Thranduil could not afford either option, not when he already walked such a fine line. There was a kingdom to worry over, not just the pride of his son. While being refused again would sting, it would keep the child safe. Resentment he could handle, having Legolas stripped from his arms was not in the same category. Loki would kill his son if she felt she must, he was quite certain of that, and he would not allow the two so close again while that was a risk. He loved the ellon too much to dare risking any harm coming to him at the hands of one he could not control.

While he worried slightly when Legolas rushed off on the hunts, he knew what would be faced in their own woods, and he knew the child and other warriors could handle the challenges. The sorceress was quite a different story. He was not sure even he could handle her, even with his grasp on magia and goetia. Facing her was no easy task, none he would gamble with. No, Legolas could rage all he liked, but this was not an option.

* * *

It was hard to understand the sudden shifts in his father's moods at times. At any given time, even though he grew at his father's side, he could not honestly predict what the Elvenking might do. He could remember times when he was younger, perched atop Thranduil's knee, when the same tenderness he witnessed had flowed freely through the older ellon. The gentleness that once lived within the great elf had been gone such a long time, it having perished with the Greenwood, infected right along with their home. To see a moment of it now was a shock to his system, one that sent him into confusion and caused him to lose the footing he had so carefully crafted moments ago. He wanted to curl into the touch, cling to it as long as it lasted, but his pride refused to yield to the child within, but he lost both his advantage and the forgotten king in the same moment.

Catching the king off guard was a rare thing, one that was difficult the achieve, and one he spent his life perfecting. It had taken such care to enter without alerting him, throw him off, and successfully unsettle him. It had been so like climbing a great mountain to have accomplished it and filled him with about the same amount of pride. It was all for nothing though, for he knew instantly that he had slid back to the bottom.

Legolas watched as the tables tipped and Thranduil began to circle him, a little as if the advantage of surprise he held in the beginning had never truly been his, "I could question her, force her to speak." He muttered with mounting force, "I could wring her secrets from her, I could." He suddenly felt so like a child begging to be allowed to go on his first hunt, swearing that he could bring down the biggest kill, and he cleared his throat. "That is to say, she will not speak the truth easily and will need persuasion. She has already proven that she can escape our cells and we cannot afford to let her regain her strength."

"As I said, you needn't. I will tend to that myself." Thranduil's voice was lofty and distant as if he stood upon a frozen hill, staring down at his heir.

"Then allow me to at least accompany you!" He persisted swiftly, "She is too dangerous for you to face alone, there is no need for you to, Tauriel and I can-"

"I have no need of company." The words slipped from his tongue so easily but were a harsh lash to Legolas' pride, a dismissal if ever he had heard one, "Her powers are interesting, but nothing I have not seen in others over the passing of time. She has nothing I cannot outmatch."

"Why do you insist upon dealing with her alone?" The bitterness in his heart deepened his tone as his shoulders coiled tighter.

"I thought I already answered that, Legolas." The glacial gaze landed with its full force, "I need no assistance. You are not to go near her, as I have already instructed you." The wave of his hand was the final dismissal, "Return to your duties as I previously instructed you."

Legolas struggled to hold fast to his ever growing frustration, knowing most of his first reflexive words would make him sound an utter toddler, but he reaching out and daringly cought hold of his fathers wrist, "Adar, you are making a mistake in continuing-"

The way Thranduil's eyes whipped toward him, the blazing anger only he could make seem so chilling hid beneath the steel of them, and it made his words die on his tongue. The sudden fear of exactly how grave and final that look always seemed to be ensured he could speak no more. While he could face a pack of Orcs, standing firm under such a stare was a far harder task, turning the stiff backbone he was so proud of to nothing more than a willow. His hands fell away before he bowed his head submissively, backing silently from the room without further protest. Without a word being spoken, he had been chastised into obedience. It always ended that way regardless of how well he plead his case. The Elvenking was not one to be beaten, not one to be challenged even by his own child.

In honesty too, retreating was made vastly easier if none could see the shame of it. He carefully slid the door closed with a final click as he turned and nearly fled from the chamber, too confused and angry to decide what he ought to think. That exchange had put him off balance and he was intent on regaining his center quickly.

He shook his head and grit his teeth, fingers twitching into fists. That witch was to blame for it all! She had placed turmoil within the palace and all that she touched the very moment she arrived. For as perplexing as his father behaved now he could swear she placed an enchantment over the great leader. It was true that he was never easy to read but he seemed vastly worse tonight. At first he thought he was speaking some sense to the king but the wind turned so suddenly against him that he had no time to adjust. She was dangerous and his father seemed to be the only one unable to grasp that fact! He seemed to see her as nothing more than a slight challenge, one he would have no trouble bending to his will. Why could he not see sense?

Arms locked behind his back, brows creased in frustration, stride strong and quick, he marched through the halls with no particular destination in mind. While he should direct his steps to joint the patrol party soon to replace the one before, typically marching out with them around this time of night, he did not alter his path to do so. The order was clear, to go about his normal duties, but his mind was far too clouded for that. As it was, muddled minds were of no use to scouts, he reasoned.

It was not right the way his father refused to listen! Everyone in the kingdom knew that she was too dangerous to be left as she was. Something had to be done with her and that was simply all there was to it. They should chain her or place enchantments over her to force her into submission, perhaps drain her of any further energy she might gain. They had all witnessed her power, seen the way she vanished from their sight and that could never be allowed to happen again! Something had to be done with her, and if his father did not see fit to do it, someone else would. Edel would begin to question his wisdom if he did nothing and as his son he could not allow it.

The young ellon marched down the winding hallways, mind lost to his thoughts until he spotted red hair farther down the steps. Tauriel would agree with him, he was very sure. The two of them might be able to come up with a plausible plan, one his father would be forced to see wisdom in once they presented it. Surely something could be done!

* * *

The night dress they provided her was nice enough, not too unlike the one she often slept in when at home. Her fingers twirled a strand of her hair around and around as her eyes flitted over the walls. The gown was warm enough but that did not stop her from wrapping one of the blankets around her shoulders, considering it better than nothing even though she still felt chilled. The dress and the blanket dragged to floor as she paced little circles around the room, her mind spinning as she worked over her plans. There were so many things that could go so wrong and it seemed they were very likely to if her recent history was any judge.

The fire blazed in the hearth like a group of dancing demons, filling the room with heat that never seemed to be quite enough to fulfill her. It was her only light but she did not particularly care. Darkness had always been a friend to her for her did her best plotting and planted her best traps while hidden in its arms. Darkness was a thing people seemed naturally fearful of for what it might hide and that made it a friend to her always.

The problem was that she could afford no further complications if she intended to make any progress in this world or her own. It would take time to find her way to Asgard, time she could not waist idly. There was much to do and she was not at all sure she was up to the task at the present. She felt more fragile than she had in a very long time, so very mortal! It was unpleasant.

Her body coiled tight, steps hitching when she heard the sound of the sell lifting as someone entered, swinging the door very carefully open, being sure she was not waiting to spring and bolt. Running was not yet in her best interest though and she was only too aware of that. Being caged was not something she relished but it was a necessary evil for a time, especially considering the identity of her visitor.

Loki did not bother to turn and look at him for she knew exactly who he was, "Come to finish our conversation?" Her voice was coy and lilting so as not to betray her dread of the inevitable.

The door clicked and hissed shut as he glided on ever light feet toward her, "Yes," His deep, following voice collided into her ears, "I am. I believe you promised to speak with me once I allowed you to rest."

Loki turned on her heels, tilting her body toward him as she graced the tall, shadowy figure with an indulgent smile, "Indeed I did, my liege, but if I had known you intended to visit in the night I would have dressed more elegantly."

Here the battle lines would be drawn, she knew, and she was unsure if she was mentally ready for the onset. If possible, she would have put this talk with the handsome and frightening king to another day. Stalling would do her little good though, for he would eventually come no matter what she did. It was always best to put battles such as these to rest quickly no matter the pain and nerves involved. Who better to best this creature than she, the lie-smith, anyway? Why doubt her skills now when even her own family often could not tell her honesty from her betrayal? Yes, she could best this Elvenking as she had done to so many others over her life.

Was this not what Odin secretly always wanted her to do each and every time he sent her to negotiate with other kingdoms? Did he not always wish her to best any that came her way with words as Thor could with his strength? Oh, yes, the old fool could boast of right dealings but she knew in all the things unsaid what he wanted her to do each and every time. She did not disappoint him either, for he always came out in the very best when she was his ambassador. The nerves had always fluttered in her stomach but she found with experience that she worked best with plotting, but also quite well when under pressure. This was just another negotiation with hidden intentions.

* * *

Annnd basically, trouble brewing, as Loki said. She tends to upset the balance of any world she enters. Queen of Chaos and all. Thranduil has quite the time on his hands with her... and his Captain... and his heir. (Now we know why he's testy in the Desolation of Smaug! jk)

And I'm sorry for the slow update. It's honestly been a hell of a week, or no, that's a lie, more like month. Sorry also if it's bad, I wrote it while almost falling asleep so I don't even know if it makes sense, hope it does. I'll do better next chapter, I hope. Enjoy anyway!

Nithig is Son

Adar is Father


	6. Circles

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Circles_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

AN: _Let the games begin!_

_Thank you all, honest and true, for the comments! They really get me motivated even though it might not seem like it with how slow I am. I've been sick and not feeling a single drop pf creativity. Anything you get I just wrung out of myself from unknown springs that might or might not be worth anything. I hope the chapter did not suck but it might, not sure. It was pretty tame and I'm sorry for that. I will do better!_

_BY THE WAY, I am one of those sad people that has yet to see the third Hobbit movie, so tell me nothing! I hate spoilers and I've been avoiding them so far! Tell me nothing!_

* * *

The fire danced in slow motions, heating the room, almost enough to make her comfortable. Loki could not remember having the cold just cling to her the way it did now. It was unfathomable. Other young women often complained of being cold but she always suspected it was a ploy to get Thor or Fandril to wrap their cape around them or insist on putting an arm around them to"warm" them. It always seemed weak to her but now she understood how they might have felt. It was so strange how life shifted ideas long held.

Loki brought herself around in a full circle, letting the hem of her white nightgown drag behind her, green eyes fixed on the great king before her. The game she would have to play with him would be a game of chess, all played in the mind. He would be her hardest opponent in some time, one she could count on her own level of cunning. She adjusted the blanket to let it hang on her shoulders more like a shawl, allowing her sharp and slanted shoulders to show, revealing just enough to remind him of her femininity.

Outwardly, Loki was the picture of calm, beautiful and serene in the firelight, strong and regal for the eyes sweeping her. The spell hindering her retreat was still rippling from the disturbance of the great Elvenking's entry and she could feel it pushing against her growing storage of magic. Once again, her long and lush raven hair cascaded cleanly over her shoulders, contrasting her alabaster complexion, made sharper in the low light. Her expression was one she had so often worn with Thor or Odin, playful, mischievous, glinting with intent and coy innocence all at once. She did not wish to let him read her any more than he allowed her to read him.

Below the surface she was nothing but screaming nerves. Her feet held the strong need to run, to gain distance but her pride refused to allow a show of weakness. She would not move until it could seem relaxed. Before engaging in any great battle of wits, her stomach was alive with butterflies of dread, heart pounding faster in her chest with stress. Once fully in the midst of verbal battle she was generally calmer, but before it was torture.

There he stood, tall, svelte, elegant, and rippling with power to broker no question. There was no hint of expression of an emotion in his face, nothing more than calm and unmovable indifference. Like hers, in the lower light, his angled features were made sharper, more hollow than in regular light. This king with dark brows and expressive steel eyes sharper than any blade she had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of was more quietly menacing than any of the loud boasting fools she had ever encountered. Those pale blue eyes were colder than any she had seen besides her own. The essence of authority rippled off him like a tangible aura; every part of him screamed leadership from the way he held his shoulders to the slight sway of his toned torso when he walked. A perfect warrior more than able to hold his own if his previous display could be believed; she would love to watch him match up against Thor, but her brother did so cheat with the hammer of his. He reminded her greatly of a Midgardian animal the color or fire with a long tail, stripes, claws, and long teeth.

"I have many questions for you. I trust you will answer with all candor." His voice, as always, was low and ominously commanding; different from Odin or Thor's, but holding similar weight.

"Of course. I assumed your mind would conjure quite a few things you would seek answer to." Loki tipped her head in acknowledgment, letting her hair fall freely over her shoulders, carefully not promising him a single thing.

His eyes moved from her head and swept all the way to her feet before returning passively to her eyes, "You look to be fairing better than when last we spoke."

The utter lack of response to examining her in a thin gown spiked her irritation and spurred her to a new resolve, "I am feeling better, majesty. I thank you for the suggestion of the bath. Indeed the warm waters to cleans my body did wonders to improve my state of being." Her fingers tugged momentarily at her gown to make it fit tightly to her curves, innocently letting it go after as if the display had been unintentional, "Thank you also for the change of clothing to sleep in and the dress as well."

His eyes had indeed been drawn from her face, fixed on her body only a moment before he looked up again, "It would hardly be hospitable to leave you in rags, prisoner or not, nor to deprive you a bath."

"Indeed, I am sure you are a spectacular host in every way possible, firm and fair." Though his eyes fell where she wanted them he still seemed quite neutral but she was very determined to gain a reaction of some kind even if it took her all night.

"Not all would deem my judgement fair. You may come to think me strict." He was positively ridged in his stance, cold as a winter day.

"You have allowed me to continue living. Anything more than that is clearly a courtesy if what your people seem to feel is indication of all they would rather see done." She smiled quite sweetly, tipping her shoulders forward shyly as she reached up to twine a lock of hair around her finger.

* * *

Legolas followed the gentle sway of Tauriel's every step, keeping close to her while remaining a respectable distance. The halls were silent, affording them the perfect privacy to inspect the area as they wished without risk of interruption or prying eyes that might stupidly give reports. They needed to be sure of their little plan well before they set it into motion. In the ways of dealing with wizards and witches, there could never be too much preparation before springing the final traps. It was doubtful that this case would be different for their opponent was cunning as she was lovely.

The Captain moved into the adjacent room and the ellon followed. This place, with its wide and open area coupled with the high ceiling made it ideal for what it would soon become. It was hidden away well enough in the kingdom to prevent many from venturing near, but not so far that none could reach it in a timely manner should there be a need. Save the door at its front, there were no openings or windows a sly little Queen could filter or squeeze herself through. Furthermore, now that they had all seen her vanishing trick, they also knew how to prevent it, at least moderately. While they might not have fully grasped the spell, it seemed easy enough to dispel when it would be expected.

The high concentration of magia focused in the vacant room would be easily channeled into a restrictive wall. The forest itself would constantly feed into the strength required to hold her prisoner as well as feeding from her. The room had been vacant so long because of its oppressive nature and the copious poisoned roots swirling over the walls to create a living piece of art with thick enough dark auras to make the skin of even an elf absolutely crawl from the taint. The room was a draw to all that dark energy of the forest, the reason for which he no longer remembered, and that made it ideal.

Tauriel strolled to the center of the rounded room and turned in place a few times as she scanned it up and down with her keen eyes. She looked so serious, so focused, the way she generally was on larger missions. He could do little but watch her mind at work when she was like this. The king had not made her Captain without reason. That sharp, stratigic mind was fit for the task. Legolas had always loved that side to her as much as he loved her more playful moods.

"Are you certain we will be able to use this room for our purposes? It will take time to properly harness the dark magia here. The woods are not as cooperative as they once were." Legolas muttered partly to himself and partly to her, not always sure how well she listened to him when her mind was lost to planning.

"There will be time enough to convince it with a few items of direction. We need only bring her here once we are ready." Tauriel's eyes traveled over the open space carefully before she looked back at him, "Confined as she is now, we should have enough time to set the trap for her before she is too strong to contain."

"How are we to be certain she will only recover in a set amount of time?" Legolas studied her as she moved about the room, circling around the far side of it, "More than that, how are we to be sure this will subdue her? Can we truly hope to restrain her as we might a Warg or a Nazgûl? If she is not like the wizards of our world, as she claims, how can we be assured this will incapacitate her?"

"We have no assurance, we have only potential for success." Tauriel did not seem deterred by her own words in the slightest. "But dark magia is all the same. It can be destroyed under the right conditions."

"What if she suspects the trap?" There was no small amount of doubt in his voice as he persisted.

"Then we rain arrows upon her until she is weak enough to force her here." The elleth stated simply, relaxed over the issue.

Legolas sighed, eyes drifting up the the glittering stone above their heads, "My father will not be pleased by this deception. He believes he will be able to sway her to our side."

"We are protecting the kingdom. He will respect our efforts once he sees we have forced her into compliance." The she elf strolled to his side, eyes locked with his, "Your father wants her as a weapon, and that is understandable... but a weapon that cannot be _controlled_ is more dangerous than going into battle with _nothing._ She is useful and she is obviously powerful, both things we need, but she is too volatile to be trusted within the confines of our home."

"What if he is correct and he is able to somehow secure her alliance?" Legolas stared back into her eyes, hiding none of his reservation from her. "What if she can be of aid to him and we are wrong?"

Stepping away from his father had given his temper a little time to cool as well as give him chance to doubt the wisdom of defying the great King's wishes. There was little his father did not know and he was a wise and masterful leader. He never risked his people, never toyed with the lives of his own. His subjects were not simply numbers on pages to him as it was with some kings. Many times Legolas did not understand his father nor agree with his methods but he did trust him to do what was best.

However, he also trusted Tauriel and believed her words. His mind battled between the two in nearly equal circles, unsure exactly where his loyalty should fall; or rather, where he wanted it to fall. By right, it should fall solely to his father and leader. As a captain of the guard, hers should fall to her king and then to her people, or perhaps it should always fall to the people first. Still, the Elvenking was seeking the best for his people and they had no cause at this time to think otherwise.

Was it such a bad idea to have a secondary plan of action though? Might it not do his father a service to have a fail-safe in place? Not that their plan could not fail but it had a healthy chance of success. Loyalty was far more multifaceted than it had right to be. The heir wanted in his heart to be loyal in all directions but his beliefs were slightly conflicting. The two people he often relied on were generally on different sides of an opinion and he was always faced with a choice of which he would heed.

"Then this is nothing more than a precaution we will be pleased to have no need of." She used a soft, assuring tone, one she used when training children being groomed for the guard, "But if we are correct, we shall be a step ahead of a grave enemy. While we prepare, she will have time to prove herself true to us. If she is loyal we will leave her as she is, but if not, we will destroy her!" The elleth stepped closer, pulling free a few smooth, clear stones from her belt, "Meanwhile, we shall test her endurance to these without alerting any. We need only carry one with us and see how she responds to their nearness. That will tell us what she is vulnerable to and give us much needed information for how best to ready her room."

Being spoken to like a new hunter raised his hackles and he took one of the stones from her open palm to clenched it in his fist, eyes cooling quickly, "Then you do not question her eventual betrayal." It was a statement rather than question but he knew she would answer anyway.

She smiled but it was a cold and unfeeling thing that did not reach her eyes, nothing but a captain, "Not in the slightest. I am certain she will prove us both correct if given time. She will show us obedience while she is weakened but not after." Now that he had taken one, she slipped the rest back into her belt, "We must use this time to prepare."

"You forget, I am not allowed near her by order of the king." Why their tempers each seemed to have stirred, he did not really know, nor did he like it.

Her brows arched playfully as if she could sense his thoughts, "What he does not know will not hurt him." Was he sly reply, mirth returned.

She could always do that with him, turn an argument into a game or challenge. Since they were small, hiding in the fields, she had always been able to handle him. They rarely fought for long, not with her ability to sway him with no more than a few words. The two of them battled side by side since the beginning, entering a battle the same way the entered court. They knew well what the other would think or do most of the time. They had given his father no end of trouble when they were children, rushing off to find adventure and prove how strong they were. There were times they nearly got themselves killed, yet they always returned to do it again, never questioning the wisdom of it.

They were always on each other's team. That was how they worked best. His father knew it, even if he did not always find it as amusing as they did.

This would be a case when he would be less amused... not that anything amused him anymore.

* * *

Loki could not make a wrong step now. She was too close! Whatever she did now, she had to make him trust her. Somehow she needed to become one of them, one of his people, one of those he would protect. The dilemma was the simple fact that she had no idea how to go about shifting his vision enough to get him to look at her that way, to value her strength, but not too much, as well as offer her shelter without restriction.

This king, as she had never before expected to hear herself say, was very necessary. The Elvenking was the key to her continued survival and he knew it because she could do nothing to hide it. Her desperation had done well enough to prove her need as well as her obvious weakness. There was no reason not to admit it for him, at least in part. If he believed he was her only hope, which he was for the moment, he would be more willing to relax.

Yes, Loki could feed the egos of men easily enough, "You have allowed me to continue living. Anything more than that is clearly a courtesy if what your people seem to feel is indication of all they would rather see done." She smiled quite sweetly, tipping her shoulders forward shyly as she reached up to twine a lock of hair around her finger.

Just play up her femininity, let them think themselves far superior to her, and they were easy. Playing weak and seeming valuable was a very, very hard balance to maintain and she very much hoped she could do it. This man was not a fool either and he would see it for what it was if she let it be too blatantly obvious. Failing would mean more than toppling over and falling on her face now, with no kingdom to race back to.

It would also mean more than Odin being furious at her for failing one of his little side jobs he generally sent her on when he knew, but would not admit, that Thor smashing a hammer about would not remedy a situation. From the first, he trained her to be the great prince's backup, the sly creature with subterfuge behind the bumbling king. From the moment her supposed father realized she had a skill for lies and a penchant for trickery he knew exactly what he could do with her. She was bred to be in the shadows, secretly running things even if Odin would never have admitted it even to himself.

Normally though, she had the Allfather or Thor at the front where she could hide behind them. This time she stood very much alone and in the open.

Perhaps her inner conflict of her fear showed for his brows twisted together just a little more. "They do not trust you, nor do I. Those that attack my people in any respect are not generally well received." His head canted to one side, silken hair sliding over his well shaped shoulders, "On that thought, I believe I will collect on your previous promise. It is my experience that one gets the best picture when starting from the beginning." Thranduil seemed intent to positively drag the answers from her with his eyes alone. "So tell me of this gatekeeper and the reason you arrived in my world."

Loki could not help the way her smile shifted to one more befitting a predator smelling blood, "So you do believe me then? You know I am not from your realm?"

Thranduil simply tipped his head, chin dipping low, "I do believe it, yes."

"Well," Loki simpered, "That is something. Better than most of your little subjects. At least you have mind enough to analyze the information given to you."

"I have seen wizards, a very strange lot, but you make even their oddity seem normal." The barest hint of teasing entered his eyes, "Were you an elf, I would suppose you had spent a few centuries more than you should under ground, or perhaps that your mind had been infected by ingesting the wrong herbs."

Ah, he wanted to play? That she could do! Tricks and games were quite within her ability. So Loki smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, lacing just a touch of magic into the motion, shifting her ear in an instant. When she pulled her hand away again the shape had altered, curving into a point at the apex of the shell, exactly like his. "How are you so sure I could not be one of you? It is such a minor difference between our appearances, after all. Dressed in your robes, I believe I could be passable." Her voice was coy and cloying to ensure he saw no threat in her.

The act was rewarded by shock, his eyes missing nothing, and surely not even having missed the sight of green glimmers of light as she cast it. Granted, she should not be using the seidr for a trick, but she could not resist. Seeing him struck dumb, eyes widening in his surprise was reward enough for the little it drained from her reserve. Games were always worth it, and besides, she was recovering faster thanks to Tauriel and her tea. She was comfortable again, which was quite the good feeling even if it made her forget herself.

To his credit, he hardly faltered, only clearing his throat once before speaking, though his eyes remained on her new ears. "Will you be candid with me or will I be forced to use unfortunate means to bring forth your honesty?"

Loki sniffed a laugh, "Oh, that doesn't sound terribly friendly of you, a man coming to my room in the night as if you owned the kingdom." Her eyes glinted, looking at him from hooded lids and fluttering lashes, "Oh, but I suppose you do own it."

She could see the way he grew more tense, seeming stressed even if she was unsure what had him on edge, "I can force honesty if I must. You are not the only one capable of use of spells."

"That takes the fun out of a conversation, does it not?" Loki strolled to the nearest chair, letting her hips sway naturally, gracefully easing herself into in to cross one leg over the other. "I see no reason we cannot remain cordial. I am a guest in your realm, a potentially lucrative one for your purposes. As allies we could do well for each other where as we would only do more harm as enemies." She casually swayed her ankle as if bored, purposefully sweeping her eyes anywhere but in his direction to show just a little irritation.

The way his eyes traveled over her proved that she was indeed doing quite well. The fire light dancing over her frame coupled with the shadows of the room did nothing but help her endeavor greatly, accentuating all the best aspects. There were times she enjoyed being a female, enjoyed the power it gave her over men. They expected many things from her but very rarely did they expect her to best them. She, the woman, was supposed to be weak and silly headed, not a creature to match any the likes of a king. The pitiful little maiden was quite an easy, though insulting roll to play. Loki had never been interested in stepping into the helpless roll unless she need to but this man before her would not fully fall for a ploy such as she typically used.

King Thranduil knew to much, she knew that he did, could tell that he respected what hid inside her. It was unusual to be respected, foreign, really. To be taken seriously was...nice. This place, this people, people she was beginning to think were very like her in many aspects, infuriated her and frightened her, but part of her liked it. Her whole world had always been about proving her worth but her power had already been proven to them. They did not trust her, that was the same as every kingdom she ever touched, but she could get around that.

Humans feared her magic, feared her power, but other races did not awe easily. This group though, they could use magic but they still seemed to respect it. Asgard did not respect her use of it. Edhel were interesting!

"To align myself with another requires trust," His cold eyes fixed firmly on her when she finally met his gaze, "but I do not give such a commodity easily. Surely, I am not foolish enough to give it freely to one perpetually given to earn my suspicion."

"What might I do to earn such a currency, my liege?" Her eyes were half lidded, belying how his words coiled her nerves into mass clumps of discomfort.

Silence fell over them as he stood with hands firmly clasped behind his back, watching her as if he could turn her to ash where she sat if his intensity lasted long enough, but finally he moved to take the seat Tauriel had previously in the day. "To begin with, you could give me reason to believe you. Answer my questions."

Loki's back stiffened, eyes traveling to the wall beside her, "The Gatekeeper is a man long in the service of my kingdom. Loyal to unending degrees once he has set in his own mind what he believes should be. He watches the gate between my world and all those near us, controls that pathway to grant or deny passage to any seeking it." She exhaled slowly to steady herself for the story ahead. "My elder brother was to be king once the Allfather stepped down and I was to be his adviser. It had always been intended as such from the moment I came to be in the family." Her choice of words was devilishly careful, giving nothing away while also speaking no attachment, "It was cemented in some minds that it would never change, even after my brother became more and more wild as we grew, lusting for the conquest of war and adventure. The Gatekeeper was one such person, loyal to the idea of rightful succession."

He surprised her by asking a seemingly rather unimportant question, "What are their names? This man and your family?"

Seemingly unimportant or not, a jolt of pain shot right to her heart, nearly choking her as she spoke, "Thor is my elder brother. Odin is the name of our father and former king. Frigga is my mother. Heimdall is the name of the gatekeeper."

"I see." His head tipped just slightly in a nod but his eyes spoke of far more, alight with some sort of understanding that had not been there before, as if her few words somehow told him more than all the rest she had spoken. "Continue."

That made her desperately uncomfortable, frightening her even though she struggled to control the worry. Those that were habitual liars always feared the ones that could see through them, never really relaxed for fear they would spill the truth. Her sharp green eyes narrowed at him but she intentionally melted into the chair to seem comfortable before she continued.

"Thor was near his coronation, the Allfather near to handing over the throne, but he made a fatal mistake, let his lust for battle go too far. He developed a taste for blood and the glory that came with slaying monsters, as did his friends in arms. Against my advice and against laws in place for centuries, he and four of his fellow battle hungry comrades traveled to an old enemy realm in order to stir trouble with the king. We have been at peace with them under treaty but Thor's appetite for glory knows no bounds and he thought to eradicate future threat to his approaching rule by destroying them." She glanced away, unnerved by the utter lack of response from him, "The Gatekeeper allowed them to pass through out of his twisted loyalty. A battle ensued from it and the five of them did massive amounts of damage there before Odin and I arrived. Odin, our father, banished him for the crimes he committed."

"Five people did so much damage to an entire realm?" Thranduil seemed incredulous but interested.

"Yes, but even they were nearing an end they could not avoid before Odin arrived. He saved both sides, actually." She shook her head slowly, "Since they were only following orders of the prince, the four warriors were not banished with him... which turned out to be a grave mistake. Odin... slipped away only days after because of the stress, leaving me to his place. I saw no reason to banish them when he extended mercy and I thought they were more loyal to Asgard than to Thor's lead." Loki chewed at her lower lip, staring at the wall again before she continued, "Things went well enough for a time but I neglected to realize that the warriors and the Gatekeeper were plotting carefully behind my back. One day, the Gatekeeper lured me to the bridge with reports that Thor had somehow made his way to our enemy realm and was destroying them with a new weapon he managed to harness."

"The story was untrue, I take it?" His brows furrowed as he listened, caught up in her story at last, it seemed.

"Yes... The truth was that the Gatekeeper brought Thor back to our realm and the lot of them set a trap for me there on the bridge." She sighed deeply, thankful the story was nearly finished, "We battled rather fiercely, Thor and I especially. He accused me of betraying him, of being at fault for his banishment because I told the Allfather what he had done in order to stop it. He further blamed me for Odin's passing. Eventually, they backed me into a corner and..." Loki stopped, the stab of pain returning in her chest, the desire to continue lost.

Those last few moments had been the worst of her life, the most painful, even worse than being told what she was. They all betrayed her, each one of them in turn! Odin, the father she chose and_ killed_ for, threw her away as he had done _all_ her life. Thor, her sanity as well as tormentor, would have killed her along with himself had Odin not arrived to save him... _save him_, not her. A worthless family, no better than the ones that first tossed her out to die. No, they were worse because they took to time to know her and make her love them before they ripped her into pieces.

The whole realm betrayed her, for that matter! Ungrateful bunch of fools! Granted, she made mistakes but her plans had been _working!_ Asgard would have been safe, they all would have! It was by far the worst day of her life and she did not care to think over it!

Fingers ghosted over hers, bringing her back from the memories. Startled, distant eyes snapped from her lap to his face before falling to his hand; just barely touching her, only enough to bring her back to herself. She looked to his face again, almost dazed by his gentleness. His expression was the same, so neutral, but the touch was soothing.

"Such things are never easy." He said, lowly, slowly, pulling away that touch she could have found herself craving.

"Nothing in life is easy. You just move on and forget." She said flippantly to keep from betraying herself.

"You cannot ever forget, no matter how long you live." The way he spoke, she could hear the sincerity and the personal knowledge hidden there, "But as you say, you move forward."

"So, how might _we_ move forward?" While she wanted to, she did not look at him, settling for curling her toes in circles instead.

"You must recover, first of all, regain your strength. After you are well, perhaps we should cultivate your relationship with my people to avoid having you shot or stabbed in the even I am not near."

It was only partly funny but she chuckled anyway, letting it dip wickedly low to prove it did not worry her. Still, that did not sound much like a plan to her and she knew he was being less than candid himself. He wanted things from her, perhaps quite a tall list, but he simply was not telling her what that was. In time she had little doubt she would find out what he had in store for her stay, but if he wanted to lie to her, she was not one to judge. For now, she would find out all she could about him and his world.

Men enjoyed talking about themselves so it should not be difficult to get him to tell her everything she wanted to know. He would forget not to tell her certain things over time, but she would remember it all carefully.

Loki canted her head to one side, cloying smile aimed directly at him, the glint in her eyes nothing but obvious mischief and sly intent. "Well, my king, I suppose we have a dilemma." Hiding tears with humor was something she was well used to, turning everything into playfulness was easy for her when she had no wish to be serious.

His metallic gray eyes fixed to her face, puncturing through the pools of hers to sink so deeply inside her mind that she took a moment to recover, bring her guard back fully into place; he could disarm her with a single look. "Do we? "

"Of course." Loki continue, linking her fingers before her like a lady, "You seem to want me to stay alive, but you have spoken of your peoples intent for my swift demise. Tell me, how might we alert this?"

"That depends largely upon you." The full force of his low, smooth voice connected with her, his eyes threatening to steal her breath away, "Will you continue to give them reason and opportunity?"

She rolled her shoulders back to hold them stiff in a positively perfect posture. "What reason have I to resist your rule? If I comply, you will hold to your promise. I only have reason to resist if you do not uphold your word." Her delicate brow arched up derisively, "The real question should be to you, to your intent to keep your word."

Thranduil let a breath slide from his lips, adjusting his shoulders lower to make his head seem higher, "Trust is one thing we each lack in each other, and perhaps in general. Such valuable commodities are not achieved without time and risk on part of both individuals. While easily broken it is built only with hard work."

With a cock of her head, she crossed her arms under her breasts in a pensive motion, "Do you think I should risk this trust? You risk nothing but I wager my life upon your word."

Thranduil's back curved in, chest extending in a nearly indignant pose, "You say I risk nothing but that is not true." Those glacial eyes turned colder yet as he started, "I risk my kin for this gamble upon your honesty. If you believe risking my people is meaningless, I question your kingdom and your rule."

The green of Loki's eyes sharpened at the insult, hair nearly standing on end like an angry cat, "Do you imply I do not care for my own people? If so, you are wrong! I understand that when a people fall, a ruler falls with them. My words were not intended to denote that."

He arched a dark brow, "I am not sure I care for the way you phrase that."

Her own brows turned down father, "What did you find distasteful?" A chill set into her expression, "Do you find fault with everything I do?"

"It was cold. A king or queen does not fall because they have no place to sit if their people fall, they fall, dragged down by their heart to watch those under them destroyed."

Loki was hard pressed to hide her irritation, "I did not mean it as you imply! I have been called cold before, but I have given up _everything_..." Her entire body stiffened at the memory of all she had done since the moment she knew Thor was soon to be crowned, everything leading to the moment in Jotunhiem, "for my kingdom. I protect my own even at the cost of my own life and happiness. Do not insult my loyalty for a simple twisting of words!"

Thranduil stood slowly, motion utterly without flaw, "Speaking like this gains us nothing." He crossed his wrists behind his back. "It is loyalty to our current mutual arrangement we must focus on."

Loki eased to her feet as well, eyes locked with his, sweet smile forced onto her lips, "Indeed, my liege, but I already trust you. I have already pledged myself to you, answered all your questions per instruction. There is little more I can do so it seems it is your turn to make a choice." Steps steady, she began to stroll her way around him, eyes locked with his.

"Is that so?" His feet began to move with her, in time with hers, circling him the opposite way, bringing them into orbit like planets, "What would you have me do then?"

The giggle that bubbled up was unstoppable as they sluggishly prowled around each other, adding realism to their verbal battle, "Well, for a beginning, you could have food and drink sent to me. Obviously ones without poison hiding within, for I am quite famished." Her steps stopped and his halted with them, so she took her chance to move in closer, having to tip her chin slightly up to keep her eyes on his, boldly sliding her fingers around each of his wrists, under his sleeves to touch skin, "Since I am your guest, I humbly request that you care for me, my king. Is that not the beginning of trust?"

He did not pull free from her touch the way she expected but he also gave no response to it, stoic as a tree, "That is a reasonable request. To ease your mind, I shall personally request a tray and have it brought for you."

"That would not fully ease my mind, but it will suffice." Her hold did not release as she stared into his handsome face, searching for a response as she leaned just a little closer, though not close enough to press her body against him nor touch him, "Will you stay and join me? I suspect it will grow very boring in my time locked away alone in this room."

An inward drawn breath, perhaps a sigh, was his only actual indication of emotion, "Not tonight, but perhaps in the morning." Thranduil stepped back and she did not resist or try to hold him with her, "For the moment, I will have food sent to you and allow you further rest. Tomorrow I will return for further discussion of our mutual problems."

Loki watched placidly as he turned his back to her, gave no response as she watched him strolled to the door, "My thanks, your grace, and I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

He cast a final glance over his shoulder, indifferent and unfeeling expression fixed firmly as always, "Rest well."

The spell lifted at his touch and he slipped away in silence, rippling her world for a moment until the magic settled once more in his absence. His departure meant she could let go. Eyes fluttering, she staggered to his chair in hopes that it would still be warm from his body and dropped into it. Much to her pleasure it was still warm and she relished the heat her own chair had not given her. The muscles in her neck and shoulders finally relaxed and she further wilted in the seat.

That had been rather stressful, but in a less than horrific way! She was certain she had not relaxed or taken a normal breath since he marched his way in. Even so, tiredness and relief to go with her insanity caused her to snicker and giggle, unable to help herself. A manic grin was on her lips as she threw her legs over the arm of the chair, covering her giggles with both hands pressed over her mouth. This tended to happen to her after particularly difficult meetings. Thor never understood why she seemed so giddy and wild after she had been penned up with boring people so long, never knew why she laughed and danced more after. He could never understand the sheer high of matching wits with others of worth nor the relief after it was over, he only knew battles of body. Battles of mind left the player full of pent up energy and excitement for how closely emotions had been held in for extended amounts of time.

A game well played meant she was more wild and high from it, more willing to indulge Thor's tavern-going ways.

What would she have him do? What indeed? My, what a question! And, oh, the answers she could have given! He would be doing a great many things for her! That was the hope, at least! So many marvelous things! She would do some horrible things to him though, such horrible things! It would be quite fun!

Honestly, it had been grand, a marvelous distraction! What else might she be doing now if not plotting? Probably lost in bad memories, so this was much more fun than that! Oh, yes! This was a glorious distraction that could keep her mind well occupied for some time! This was a puzzle, a game, and she was very good at those! She was good at ruining other peoples games in hopes she could beat them to it!

This king and his little kingdom would give her no end of interesting things to think on! He was a grand chess-master for her to play with! He was only just getting started too, she was positive. There would be so much more to come! When next they met, it would be a whole new game, a new distraction she could run away with. Who wanted to dwell in reality anyway? Games were much better and this one only had raised cost to it, and why should she fear that? A few tears from her laughter leaked from the corners of her eyes and she swiped them away, smirking and trying to quell her giddiness for when the food would be brought in.

Her only real problem would be settling fully on just one plan, she had so many! They just would not settle in and stick to one. She closed her eyes, shaking her head, chest shaking with several barks of chuckling. How many had she just tried on him? Angry, irritable, also funny, there always had to be a funny face if she was going to live up to her title of trickster! Smiling was key, she could not forget to smile. None of those emotions belonged to her, of course, she was only borrowing rolls. She felt nothing, she would never feel anything, and surely not sadness like he must have thought. She was not lonely nor sad, she was perfectly happy as she was and she was invincible!

Surprisingly, that went remarkably well for a first battle! Better still, she won the ending round! He retreated, put an end to their chat, which signaled his need for finality. He did not care for her being so close, close enough to read him better and even take his pulse to test his honesty. If the calm and slow way he spoke was any indication, he had been working to keep his pulse perfectly even while she touched him, which meant he knew what she had been trying to do. He was no fool! Which was good because it would mean the game would be longer!

But he had fled! She would have to do a great deal of analyzing to decide exactly why he gave her a victory, but she would work it out and learn from it to use against him. As for herself, she could have followed that little trail easily enough, but he might as well have bolted screaming from the room as far as she was concerned. That was a pressure point found! Now she had two, the first being the son! My, things were going rather well! If she kept doing so well she might be in business sooner than later!

Perhaps she would have that army to storm Asgard sooner than planned! She did have to find the gate, but that too would come.

* * *

AN: Not much action, just a bit of a look into how things are going to take a turn for the worse in the future. Traps are just waiting to be sprung all around so the bunch of them are basically walking over trap doors without knowing.

The ending? Well, Loki is not the most stable creature, and I was watching Thor 1 the other day again, sooo I was reminded how the poor kid was an emotional wreck.


	7. Our Way

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Our Way_

*Tolkien

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

* * *

Loki rose just after the sun, or at least she supposed that was when she awoke, it was slightly difficult to tell in an underground palace, but she was not intent on being caught asleep by any of the subjects of the realm again. If they came in, they would not be catching her asleep, easy prey for any inane ideas of heroics and playing savior. Even in Asgard, she rarely let many servants into her room simply because she hated people milling about into her space when she did not trust them not to cause her problems.

The Elvenking promised to visit and she was more than slightly intent on being ready for him when he arrived. In addition, a particular captain might return for a new round of questioning, in which case, she intended to be in far better condition than before, more than better, flawless even.

Since Thranduil had been extremely clear about her stay in this room being a long one she saw no particular issue with using a little seidr to enhance her already stunning features. It was replenishing itself marvelously so all should be well soon enough, at least using it would not cause her any damage. Perched in front of the to mirror, Loki proceeded to do as she did before any important meeting at home; adding extra thickness to her lashes as well as darkening around them to add to her mystery, a touch of tint to her lips and a decided removal of the unwanted dark circles under her eyes made her more than presentable.

Rather diligently, she had worked to be sure each and every curl was perfect. She did not want a single hair out of place nor speck of skin to be less than flawless. It only took a very tiny glamour spell anyway, so there was little worry. Normally, she used more elaborate enhancements before meetings to be sure she was more than slightly eye catching, to ensure she looked nothing like the ugly girls - such as Lorelie, how she hated that woman - flouncing around Asgard; she liked to be darker and more dangerous looking, but prettier than Sif. But she was still being sparing, saving her reserve just in case today, having already discussed so much with her in the night, the king decided he was finished conversing. There was little risk that he would try to kill her _now_ but she knew perfectly well that one could never be too sure. Logic did not always prove to be reason to relax.

She tucked a little of her hair up to be sure her newly shaped ears were visible. The shift to her ears would not be undone unless she intentionally changed them back. She saw no reason not to attempt to seem more like these creatures. When in Rome, as the humans said. They were part of her now, until she no longer wanted them. That was the beauty of being a shifter; fluidity. The ears were a nice touch to her natural beauty ... to the form she had chosen when she was a baby, the Aesir skin, not the hideous blue.

Loki shook her head to dispel that mental image of her horrific true appearance, not interested in dwelling on such things now. She knew she would never actually erase those thoughts from her mind, never be freed of them, but she could ignore it. With returned lightness to her step to go along with her largely returned strength, she moved from the mirror to bask by the fire.

She might as well do her best in this world. Fate had cast her in a repeating roll and she was slowly coming to terms with it, if only slightly; she was destined to forever be at the mercy of kings that would lock her away until they had use of her - the blackbird never intended to fly, only to be caged. In some ways she preferred this particular cage to her old one. At least she did not question her standing in this place and these people had absolutely no idea what she really was. That was freeing in itself. Loki sighed, waving the subject from her mind.

The gown they provided was elegant, more attractive on then she had expected. Its silken leaf texture was one she was not familiar with but it was not uncomfortable and she was more than pleased that she filled it out in all the right places. It was slightly tight but that was typically how she wore everything, at least it ended up being tight after she added accent of armor or leather. The dress was something Frigga would indeed have approved of. Much to her shock, she would call herself stunning even if it was a modest cut. There was a slight bit of a shimmer to the fabric that had her prancing in front of the mirror more than once, swaying the long skirt behind her. She did not hate it the way she expected to.

Plump lips twisted in a silent snarl as she felt the shift of the walls rippling around her. They were visiting much sooner than expected. She had not exactly wanted to see anyone yet, supposing they too would only be getting ready and that would give her time to mentally ready herself for battle. It was inevitable though, so what could she expect?

As a prisoner she supposed she would never really be ready to face her enemies, not on ground that was unfamiliar. Nothing she could do would change her disadvantage in a world she knew nothing of. Had it been Asgard, the advantage would have been hers. It was always best to be able to decide when and where to engage an adversary, but those luxuries were saved for times when she was freer, when Odin would still extend a hand to help her, a blood princess rather than fallen Queen of two realms.

Her toes twisted her around slowly to face her visitor but she was shocked to see neither of the people she expected. That would be why the room's reaction was slightly different. His eyes fixed on her with intensity, like they always were. He was a focused creature, intent in almost everything he did. However, he had not come seeking to battle her, he came with the intent to seem less of a threat than he had in the past. The way he stared, she knew he was memorizing her, taking record of each detail he saw. He did not miss her ears but he started only very slightly, small enough that those with a dull sense would not have seen.

The strong looking armor had been removed in favor of simpler attire, though his blades were still at his back, strapped there the same way Thor kept his hammer hung from his belt nearly every waking moment. The Aesir smiled as she studied him, perfect posture stood near the door like he could easily become a statue there. Still, she would not forget her manners even if he offered her little so she dipped her head in greeting, to which he dipped his own in return.

"Greetings, Prince Legolas." As it was with Thor, she knew he would have reason to visit her in her rooms. When it was Thor it generally meant he needed her with him on some adventure Odin would not approve of and he would whisper through his entire explanation. The Mirkwood prince was here in the early hours, moving quietly so she could deduce it was similar; some question needed answering, he needed to know something, the visit had a reason; she wanted to know what it was!

"Greetings," He visibly struggled with her title, mulling it over in his mouth with hesitation, "Queen Loki. I came seeking to know of your well being."

Loki began to prowl around him very, very slowly, giving him space enough to flee while she offered a sadistic smirking. "No, you did not. Do not pretend to feel worry for me when you are not skilled at it."

To his credit or foolishness, she was undecided on which, he did not move to watch her go around his back, staying stubbornly in place. Bravery was not always the wisest of choices but it was to his good fortune that she had no plans at the current time to do him any harm. "My prince, I am well aware that you have reason for coming to me," She stopped before him, close enough to touch him if she extended her hand just slightly, "so do enlighten me. Is it kismet? Did you miss me so greatly after so little time?"

"I have not missed you." The bluntness of his words were intended to be a lash at her but they fell useless in light of her playfulness.

She nodded slowly, eyes studying him, speaking softly but knowing he would hear, "Of course. You have preference for red hair." His eyes jumped wide for an instant before he forced calm to return as his mouth opened to respond.

She spoke first, continuing, her saccharine tone dripped from her lips like melting sugar, "Then tell me what you seek. I have sworn my loyalty to your father, and thus, as his son, it extends to you as well, does it not?" She intended to take her fun from this one.

"It would," Legolas gave a short nod, those big eyes drilling into her with something near malice, "if you meant the pledge."

At that, she reached out both hands, running her fingers under the strap at his chest, relishing exactly how tense he became at her invasion of his personal boundaries, "Why mistrust me so? Do pledges mean so little in this world that you are unwilling to take them at the value they were offered?" Her eyes locked with his, a seductive depth to her green pools she was using very intentionally.

The ellon persistently stood his ground, not even twitching no matter how tightly coiled he was, "Not from the mouths of liars. We are not foolish enough to believe the word of just anyone for if we did, we would not hold the standing that we do in this world."

He was letting her touch him. Curious! What was he trying to discover, or prove?

Loki nodded slowly, running her fingers higher on the strap, "Healthy reluctance is a good sign in those that rule for trust should indeed only be given to those worthy of it." The ripple of his muscles spoke of how near he was to pulling away so she simply slipped back, gliding on the tips of her toes to a reasonable distance before she turned her back on him passively, "What might I do to prove I hold no ill intent toward you or your people?" She strolled toward the fire, relaxed and dismissive to counter the previous intensity.

The question seemed to give him legitimate pause, as if he never considered any method with which to test her, "It would take more than a single act to gain my trust or the trust of any of my people."

"What acts then?" Loki persisted, bringing both hands to rest over the warm wooden mantle to give him a better reason to relax; it always relaxed others if they could see both hands at once.

"This discussion was not the reason I came here." He spoke quickly, annoyance growing.

"Ah, so you admit to telling lies when you spoke upon first entering. Do you not think that hypocritical of yourself?" Loki chided in a mockery of astonished horror.

"I have no reason to answer to you nor have I reason to tell you anything. What I say to you is-" He sounded so irritated but Loki could not help cutting him off.

"So speaking lies is not a problem of conscience so long as you are speaking with one you have no reason to trust. I see." She was not smirking, of course, just keeping her face turned away from him.

"That is not what I meant. I was seeking to know how you were, though perhaps with less sincerity than-" This time he cut himself off, "I did not come to debate with you."

"Why not? The world is a more interesting place if everyone can speak of motives and debate over matters of interest. I find myself with more than enough time to indulge in long and interesting conversations."

"Perhaps you have time, but I do not." Legolas was growing irritated if his petulant tone was a judge, "I came seeking-"

The magic laced air rippled, making Loki close her eyes and lean a bit more on the mantle. The press of it felt as if it increased with each person added, or perhaps it was only these two, the royal blood of this kingdom, those the magic recognized most readily. A prickle of panic rushed up into her throat as she recognized the feel of the person entering, dread settling into her gut like lead. It was only too obvious by the instant, tangible sense of tension rising behind her that the new arrival had not been expecting to see a particular prince in _this_ particular room.

She had a very clear feeling she was somehow going to be blamed for this, whatever it was. Norns must not utterly hate her though, for they held off that second visitor for the time that she was peacefully staring at a wall and not pressing her fingers against Legolas' chest. While she had only been toying with him, that would have made an ill picture indeed!

"Adar." Legolas' voice was tight, trying hard to seem utterly calm and relaxed even when the sharp, higher pitch of surprise testified to everything but.

She could not help holding her breath, turning her body very slowly back in their direction to watch what was bound to be something less than pleasant. The Elvenking, she decided instantly, was more ridged that she had ever seen, which was impressive. The look of shock was obvious, the widening of his eyes more pronounced than he had ever allowed it before. The Prince was no less stiff, but his was a very defensive posture in contrast to the utter horror of his counterpart. As always, however, the recovery was swift, the naked shock fading to glacial and forced indifference.

"How is it I come to find you here when I understood you to be on patrol with your squadron?" Thranduil's voice was also quite tight, vibrating more like, but hidden within seemed to be born less of rage and more of carefully trapped worry.

"I only just arrived not a moment ago." Legolas tucked both arms behind his back to prove he was not worried in the slightest.

"That was not my question." Thranduil returned with a tone so even if could as easily have been worse than if he had screamed somehow.

Loki made the mistake of taking a step toward them, moving to calmly join the conversation, even intent on assisting the floundering prince much in the way she once had when Thor enraged Odin. She scarcely even made it a full step before Thranduil was on her, eyes positively blazing with anger and what she thought was a spark of absolute, blind terror. He moved like a ghost, making no sound past the whisper of his robes over the floor. It somehow made her think of Frigga, the way he looked so protective. Why might he be frightened? Because of Legolas? It could be nothing else, but _his_ fear frightened _her_ in its ferocity directed squarely at her.

Her hands shot up reflexively, ready to fend off any blows, but he caught each of her wrists, holding them in the vice of his strong fingers. She allowed a flash of fear into her eyes and when his grip tightened further, she slipped free a whine, making her knees go slightly weak to indicate in nonverbal ways that she was in pain and further that she would surrender. His grip was uncomfortable, bordering on pain without actually hurting her, but he did not need to know she was not in as much discomfort as her body language was indicating. There was far more strength in those hands than he was exerting, she could tell, but it served her better to make him believe she was weaker than she was. The grip he was using would have been no more than a sharp bite of warning to one of his own kind, she was sure, she was actually positive he was not striving to do real damage considering she knew how much more he could be doing.

"Sire," Loki ventured in as timid a voice as she possessed, "please... what has caused you such anger? I assure you," she met his iced over eyes with pleading green, "I did nothing to harm him. He was merely questioning me about my homeland, nothing more."

There was shock in the eyes of the prince, for he was not a fool and he could see when he had just been handed a defensible lie. They both knew he came for something of a different nature, but it was something they could each use. The sharpening of darkness in his eyes told her he would indeed be using her lie, but he was a great deal more determined to have their chat at some other moment. The issue, whatever it was, was a long way from being dropped.

Without turning to address his son, his eyes still fixed on her, he asked in a deathly calm, "Why were you visiting this room when I gave you instructions only last night to leave the situation solely to me?"

Loki could feel the anger bubbling up within him and she dared not move or speak. He was angry and frightened and that never made for a pleasing combination. Poking at those emotions was a splendid way to have an eye removed; Odin should know. No, she would be still and she would be compliant.

"I wished to know how close this Asgard is to our world." Legolas slipped in so smoothly it could have been a truth, but she could actually feel the knowing rolling from the Elvenking; he knew it was a lie, he just did.

Yet he allowed it, "You will return to your squad." Thranduil ordered, "I do not expect to see you again until night has fallen upon their return."

That was a direct order hiding under politeness if she had ever heard it. He was more subtle than Odin ever was, but no less demanding, and no less frightening. Legolas bowed swiftly, backing from the room without a single protest, retreating before his father had time to dole out more orders upon him. The door closed and the room rippled again, but he did not move, hardly seemed to be breathing. Those cold eyes simply stared unblinking into her very soul. It was less than comfortable.

"Might I be allowed to point out that his visit was not my fault for I am unable to leave this room?" Loki interjected haughtily to cover her own nervousness, still not even trying to struggle from his unrelenting hold. "I see no reason for you to be angry with me."

"No, you may not." He did not smile but his eyes lightened just a little, "But you may cease feigning pain in order to appease my wrath for it does not work." With his hold still locked, he directed her to the chair she occupied in their last conversation before he shoved her into it to demonstrate his annoyance.

Loki allowed herself to fall, dramatically curling into the chair and dropping her eyes to his feet, tugging her knees up just slightly as if she expected violence, which she did not considering his idea of being harsh with her_ was_ to force her to sit. Everything was about control and holding up his shields of indifference. Shoving her into the chair was a show, one he did not obviously allow himself normally, and it was strictly a warning. His hold on her wrists was a warning too but she was not a fool and she had felt the fear and seen the way he shielded his son once again. All for the love of a son ... adorable. "Why are you so angry? I have done nothing against you, not even attempting to escape."

"If memory serves me, you requested to remain in my kingdom, so why would you try to escape?" Once again, he was fully relaxed into a regal stance, his robes hanging off him perfectly and hair in place as if he never moved at all. Most men could not manage to look so utterly unflustered after things like that. There should at least have been some hair out of place.

The Aesir stared up at him as he strolled toward the fire, his eyes carefully watching her from the peripheral. "A full night sleep has done you well, I see." The smooth depth of his voice had returned, the cutting edge gone, "You look less like you might drop over the edge any second."

"Every lady needs beauty rest, it is in the rules we each receive upon birth. Why else would you think we are so lovely but for the spell of sleep?" Loki would play with him now for his mood was lifting away quite quickly.

"Indeed. It must be quite a spell since you look passable as a queen rather than troll."

Loki narrowed her eyes, "That was harsh, my lord. I do not believe I deserved that slight. Trolls are too like dwarfs, same family."

The corners of his lips twitched and he cast his eyes to her face, "You are correct, that was too harsh. I should have compared it to a human standard of appearance."

Cocking her head, she continued to frown, shifting herself to a comfortable position, "I am not fond of that one either, though it is an improvement, if only slight. Mortals are pitiful creatures."

His cool eyes turned further toward her, chin tilting her way, "That indicates you are not mortal yourself."

Loki hesitated, unsure how to proceed, but pride surfaced swiftly, bringing her cool indifference, "Indeed, I am not. I am far above such foolishness and pitiful existence. Mortals last no more than a century at best, leaving little to no impressions from their lives."

"You hold them with little regard." Thranduil declared, stoically unsurprised.

He said 'them' which should mean he was not included among those deemed mortal, placing himself outside those walls as well, so she had no reason to hold back. "There is little to hold for flickering flames. One can simply admire their tenacity and foolish stubbornness."

"You sound as if you speak from some personal grudge."

"I hold nothing against them." That was not strictly true, one of them had ruined her plans and her brother forever, it seemed; they tended to ruin things easily from all her encounters with them.

"How old is the Queen of Asgard then?" With that, he turned to face her again, abandoning his stroll.

Loki cocked a decisive brown, "It is considered rude to ask a lady her age without first offering your own."

With that, Thranduil smiled rather softly, "Many more centuries than I care to count."

Chin dipping in a conspiratorial nod, Loki agreed, "I am the same, though I believe I might be a century or two younger than you for I am still light on my feet and better capable of making jokes. Sense of humor is the first thing to go."

"Reasons to laugh fade with the passing of time." Thranduil stated distantly, a shadow entering his eyes before he seemed to push it away, "But I do not believe you are lighter on your feet than I. Memory tells me otherwise in all your graceless stumbling."

Loki interlocked her fingers, smirking wickedly, "Judging me by the state of my arrival is unfair, my lord. Test me now and you would find me quite flexible and very nimble, far better than you, I dare say."

"You are very confident." He shook his head to clear a fallen strand of hair from his face haughtily.

She rolled slowly to her feet, a smile on her lips, "Perhaps."

The Elvenking watched her near, allowing her the moment of victory before he shattered it, "Why was me son here?"

Loki's shoulders drooped, her head dropping dramatically to the side and a deep sigh added for further demonstration, "I have utterly no idea. He never got to tell me." Her posture righted itself again and her expression instantly calmed to mirror his, "There were likely many things on his mind."

His eyes locked with hers, searching and pinning her in place, "Tell me of Asgard, of your world."

She blinked at him, her mind skidding and spinning with all his sudden shifts of conversation. He was trying to keep her off balance, a trick she knew only too well, but it was working slightly none the less. If she wanted to remain in any power she would need to stay ahead of him somehow, prevent his wild shifts and hold her answers in careful check.

"Very well." Her chin dipped in concession. "What do you wish to know?"

"Everything." Was his very simple answer as he reached for her hand and guided them both to the chairs.

Admittedly, she had to struggle not to start at the contact. It was so gentle and unusual; not that it was not common practice for a man to lead a lady exactly like this; it felt strange to her now. The soft pads of his fingers sent small shocks into her body she could only guess were from the magic in his body conflicting with her own, pushing and testing the other. Unless she only imagined the twitch in his brow, he felt it too.

With time to herself, she had been theorizing about this realm and the power within. She had come up with quite a few theories too and she had a very distinct feeling he had been doing the same. He wanted to know about Asgard, a natural thing, but she expected there must be more to the question. She could not afford to forget that he desired things from her. This would be one of many times she could explore and discover what he sought. They did indeed need to know about each other's worlds.

As an offer of trust, she would tell him of her home, at least a little, but then she would need to turn that conversation. Men enjoyed bragging about things that were matters of pride to them and a kingdom was surely one of the biggest sources. While he had her captive, she had a feeling they would talk long hours about Asgard but she would need to draw out equal bits about Mirkwood and this Middle Earth. He would forget not to tell her certain things over time, forget to hold back information, but she would need to be careful not to fall to the same error.

These things were a dance. It was just the way of cunning minds locked together. It was an unending dance between two forces to decide which of them would slip first.

* * *

The elleth had been waiting quietly, calmly pacing the floor in their small meeting room. She had not been worried in the slightest, of course, no. Her companion was more than capable of handling himself so she clearly had nothing to worry over. The fake queen was weakened anyway so there would be little she could do against him. If she attempted a fight Legolas would be victorious, anyone could see as much.

The hem of her tunic lapped lazily at the rim of her boot as Tauriel turned once again, strolling round and round the perimeter of the small room. Her unease was caused by the dark feeling of the room and nothing else, she knew that. Normally she would not have willingly remained in this room for such a long span of time but it was the safest place in the kingdom to plan. She had maps spread out, notations of known entrapment spells, and all the little stones she had gathered for the occasion. The room was the only thing causing the sensation of dread within her gut, she knew that.

Legolas was a warrior and that woman was a pampered little creature with nothing but flexibility and reflexes to aid her. They had all seen her fight in the forest ... dodging that arrow. Her teeth began to chew away at her lower lip, eyes fixed on the wall. It was true that many were never able to avoid the true aim of an elf but that did not mean she was so very grand a fighter. They could subdue her.

But could he do so alone? How powerful were the beings of Asgard?

Though she was not worried and the mild shaking in her fingers had nothing to do with the fact that he was taking longer than she expected, it still caused her to rethink the plan. What reason was there in both of them testing the stones? There was only so far either of them could go without rousing the witch's paranoia and shifting between the two of them would do so little to stall it. There was really no reason to tempt Thranduil's temper regarding his son either. It might be best if she went alone.

Honestly, since the first days she had memory of, it had always been the two of them. Legolas had always been her partner in all manner of wild escapades, much to Thranduil's chagrin. They were similar, they fit, and were natural companions. Kindreds. They played a fought together from the first and had done little apart; something akin to having a brother in blood. Whatever they did, they did it as a team and it never occurred to her this might be one thing they should do apart until today. She refused to have it lost because she overlooked something vital!

At first she had brushed off the Elvenking's behavior and staunch refusal to allow his son's involvement but she had begun to rethink it. Perhaps he had reason to fear that particular involvement, having noticed things she had not. She could still remember the fight on the dais clearly and the stubborn way Legolas had been shoved into the background. Other than paternal needs, why did he step so carefully? Something seemed wrong with both men.

What bothered her was how Legolas seemed to under estimate the black haired woman. He knew she was powerful but he allowed himself to be swayed so very easily in regards to her. If he had been with the king he was optimistic and unsure if they should take action, if he was with her he was ready to storm any gates, and if he was with the guards he was angry over her presence but apathetic in light of the king's orders. His loyalty on the issue was obviously conflicted because he was pulled in so many directions and that made him vulnerable. Were Loki to catch it, even a hint...

She had been too reclace, driven by pride. She was beginning to see that now. What was needed was stepping away from those feelings and taking stock of all the strange little factors that had been building over time. Odd things had begun since that woman arrived and it could not all be thanks to paranoia on their part.

Her hair swayed at her back as she turned on her heels to head the other way. Part of her could moderately admit to being more than slightly wary of that other worldly witch. The only thing giving her a moment of peace was the simply fact that they all knew she was frail and still recovering. After that, what would they have as protection? If she turned on them suddenly, unleashing whatever powers she was hiding within that frame, what exactly might happen?

Wizards were dangerous if they were fighting on the wrong side; crafty and often slightly out of their minds. The force they could unleash was often frightening even to creatures such as the Eldar with all their own magia abilities.

What was the witch hiding from them exactly? What had she already done within the walls of the kingdom?

The young elf first attacked had recovered even if he remembered nothing of what had been done to him. The guards struck in the throne room had been stunned but were also perfectly functional. Was that because Loki was weak or had it been calculation? It had been no secret that she desired to stay within their walls so she must have understood they would never harbor a killer. The conclusion was a bit simple; she held back. But what would she do if she felt not need to hold back?

Her lids fluttered and she shook her head slowly, drawing a deeper breath to her lungs.

The situation was far too dangerous and it simply could not sit to fester. This simply had to be dealt with and she had come up with a few ideas on exactly how. The first one was nothing more than a wild idea, one that might not work at all but it could force the king's hand no matter what he believed about the captive. It could get her killed, or it might cause Loki's death, but she was willing to risk it. The better thought over ideas regarded the room and the stones, but she was restless in waiting for that already.

Tension instantly left her shoulders when she heard the quiet approach of familiar feet and she nearly sagged with relief. "How did it go?" She asked evenly, not turning around to face him just yet.

"Not well." Legolas admitted, tone clipped and irritable.

"What happened?" Her feet moved her slowly around to face him and eye his obvious outraged shame.

Pulling the stone from its pounch in his belt, he tossed it at her feet with pure disgust, and she flinched at the loudness of its crash, "There was no reaction. It did absolutely nothing to her." His jaw muscles flexed as his eyes fell upon the wall, "In addition, I was caught visiting and ordered to leave on patrol."

"The king was also there?" She ventured, letting her voice remain even and calm.

"Not at the first, but he arrived soon after me and was less than pleased to find me." Fury was bubbling just under his skin with enough intensity that she could almost swear she saw his skin twitching, "I have a feeling he will be watching me more carefully from now on and I will be sent away with increased frequency."

It was a struggle to control her own relief at hearing that since it gave her an excuse while also offering her the ability to blame the reason on his father rather than her own fears. "Then I will take over. It will not set us back in progress." Resuming her pacing, though at a slow pace, she persisted, "But are you certain she had no response?"

Legolas shook his head, glaring, "No, it was utterly ineffectual. She was quite close to it and she had no reaction at all. Had I shoved it into her hand, I feel she still would have been unphased by it."

"That matters little. We have others and it only teaches us what to avoid. Errors tell us as much as success." The information did not bother her. She had a distinct feeling the stone she intended to take on her own visit would gain some sort of response, regardless of what it was, it would be something.

"I still dislike it, Tauriel." He did not actually have to explain what he meant, she knew he was mainly referring to being sent away like a punished child.

"There is no need to fret over it now. It is a setback but nothing more. I will continue in your absence."

His still seeking eyes narrowed, "He will send you away soon as well if you are not very careful." The statement was so bitter she could not help pity Thranduil his choice to further anger his only child.

"It will be fine." She assured him stoically before smiling the smile she knew perfectly well had the power to soften his mood every time.

The tightness in his face diminished as he stared at her, almost returning the look. He was a good ellon, always had been, but a stubborn one. She could not fault him for that considering she too was well snared by the same character trait. It was simply the way they were. They would never rest until they were satisfied with a situation and the outcome. If they were overly protective, so be it.

* * *

Long hours had been spent is such amiable and reminiscent chatter that Loki could nearly have forgotten what Thranduil's intentions were, nearly. They spoke long of Asgard, the parts she was willing to speak about, and of Greenwood now known as Mirkwood, as much as he was willing to speak of. She found herself interested to know that it had not always been a dark place and she wished he would elaborate more on the cause. He only called it a darkness, which told her precious little! Useful information like that simply begged her exploration though.

Vaguely, she held the impression it was linked in some manner to the reason he needed her help. Whatever that "darkness" crawling in poison over his land happened to be, it was obviously powerful. Powerful enough to cause her a great many problems and very likely the sickening presence she had felt clawing at her seidr from the start. It operated on some different plane than anything she had encountered, moving and combating what resided in her. She had her theories over those issues, ones she was unsure how to test.

Once a servant entered to bring in food and more clothing, the nearly friendly atmosphere had shattered, leaving him cold and indifferent once more. He slipped away before the elleth had even finished hanging her new clothing within the small wardrobe. While he informed her he would return she still felt irritated by his dismissal simply because someone was suddenly watching. It made her feel... a bit like she felt all her life. Thor could be gentle and sweet with her in private, being the brother she loved, but switch instantly the very second someone entered their sanctuary. It had always been as if he was embarrassed to have been caught with her and instantly needed to regain his reputation.

She had always loathed that; loathed the person that destroyed their quite; loathed his lack of a spine in regards to being himself; loathed how she was whatever was wrong in the kingdom to be found with; loathed everyone including herself.

The Elvenking had not been back in some time and she did not particularly care now that her mood was drastically soured by those thoughts she could not always push away. Everyone always turned their back on her. She had given up long ago on finding anything different. Men a women treated her the same, but men were worse simply because they were more direct.

A woman at least had the general decency to lower her voice when spreading gossip about her but they men joked loudly about it. That was one of many reasons she despised men so greatly. They looked down their nose at her, the same as a woman would, or they leered at her sickeningly. Men were pigs regardless of how proper they seemed. They either pawed at her or they treated her similarly to a contagion.

Legolas fell into the contagion category but she had not decided where Thranduil would fall for he had yet to reveal it. Some men were better at hiding their true nature, hiding it for long periods in some cases, but she always found it eventually.

Loki was not easily fooled by the games men played with women. Since she was very young she had watched Thor and Fandral play those games with ladies of the court. It was all about manipulation and finding weaknesses, which normally dull men somehow managed to do when they wanted things from a girl. How that worked she could not really say; maybe they simply had reason to apply themselves.

She grew up watching those older boys trick silly girls into thinking they were in love but she knew those tricks for the lies they were. Sweet words, cute lines, and dashing smiles were useless weapons against her for she knew, she knew that love did not exist. Loyalty, such as Frigga had to Odin, but true love was nothing but a lie. Nothing in life was true, least of all love. Love could be fooled, manipulated, and tricked to make the heart do very stupid things.

Friendship was also a lie, at least in her case. No one wanted to love her and no one wanted to be her friend unless they had a hidden reason. She learned the hard way that friends were loyal only if it was Thor and any claiming it with her wanted something. As far as love, even with the help of those two boys to teach her how men played tricks, Loki had fallen once. The trickster herself had been tricked into believing in love and learned the hard way that it was always a lie and she never believed a man again. Men were only to be used and outwitted, but never trusted.

Pain was the only outcome of trust or love. Of course, the _one man_ that tricked her did not exactly live long. To date, Thor still believed his "chat" with him in the training grounds had killed him, but really, it was the poison in the wine rather than the beating. It was sweet of Thor to defend her broken heart and her honor, but she had never been one to forget a grudge. That had been one of the few times he honestly defended her, but she had appreciated it for the brotherly act it was.

After that, it was Loki that played games, and she _always_ won. Men always wanted something, whatever it was, and they were easy. She won the affection of not one but two Prince's in of Niðavellir and secured Andvaranaut for their vault, just like Odin wanted. Contrary to _all_ stories told, she had not accidentally killed prince Ótr for his shifted pelt, no! It was prince Regin, seeing his brother as a rival for the lady Loki, considering they shared a particular skill of shape shifting. Loki had stayed near the lake while she waited the catch Andvari, resulting in meeting the less than appealing; though not as bad as most dwarfs; Niðavellir heirs.

Dwarfs were more insane than she expected though, even if she had been toying with their minds a bit out of sheer boredom from waiting for weeks on end to capture the fish. In her defense, she only indulged them to ensure her stay in the kingdom would be luxurious, and she never once told them she loved them, nor did she let them touch her, nor even promise to stay, they drew their own conclusions. After the catastrophe, she allowed the blame to fall on her head for the death, knowing exactly what the greed of that boorish king would ask and planning for it.

All the while, she had a prince up her sleeve and Odin distantly at her back. Regin believed her when she promised her hand to him if he smuggled the ring back to her in the end; she told him she was protecting him and their future together. He did give her the ring, and she never again returned, but he could do nothing about it considering she held more over his head than he could hope to over hers. Everything that happened after that could really not be blamed on her.

Dropping her face into her hands, she could not help giggling for the sheer morbid memory of it all. _All_ of that, she had done to get Odin what he asked of her, and now look how it ended! Granted, Odin never expected all the wild events in Niðavellir any more than she had, but she had endured it all simply to accomplish a goal. While she raved at herself not to trust men, she forgot the _one man_ than was **_supposed_** to be protecting her. He too claimed to love her! How was he so shock by her anger at him in the vault, exactly? What part of her reaction should have been unexpected after having been used all her life when she once thought her family would be all she actually had? She once felt safe in them because they were blood and that meant they were the one group of people that could not leave her because they had no choice.

Oh, she was feeling morbid indeed, dwelling on ugly memories like those, yet all she could really do was laugh at the absurdity of all the things in her past. Little wonder people thought her mad most of the time! Perhaps she was...

Loki jumped, eyes widening when she first heard the sound of the door and next felt the shift. It made her breath stop in her throat to feel it. That was different, more intense, more violent than it generally felt. It was wrong, very wrong but she had no idea why. She was suddenly afraid to look and discover the reason.

The room did not ripple, the barrier did not sway powerfully as it did when Thranduil entered, no, it wavered! She had come to recognize the differences in those that entered based on the way the magic of the room responded. The room had varying reactions to each person; a normal servant slipping in hardly even swayed it, but Thranduil always caused deep ripples to flow, which caused her to have a great many theories swirling in her mind.

Loki turned, a pensive glare on her face as she focused on her new visitor, starting in shock when she recognized the face. Green eyes searched the other woman swiftly up and down as her mind frantically tried to make sense of this new information. The crown of red hair flowed as she walked, posture perfect the way it had been in their first meeting, thus indication she was healed. Could that have changed the room toward her? Was she that much stronger than the Elvenking? Had Tauriel caused such a disturbance the first time she entered? She could not think so for surely it would have awakened her even when she was so weak!

Realizing she had nearly been gaping at her, Loki swiftly schooled her expression into on of neutrality. "Ah, Captain." Smiles would be saved for later when she might need them. She would not allow her utter sense of foreboding to show through though, not even slightly, not over her dead body... or perhaps Tauriel's.

"Greetings, Loki." Tauriel returned with a mild smile on her lips.

Norns, something was wrong, the Aesir was just sure of it! She had a clear sense that she should run but exactly where should she go? As was so very typical, she was trapped and she had no idea what to fight against, not yet.

* * *

AN:Title is basically because everyone is trying to get their own way but someone is bound not to. It's just how I think. It doesn't have to make sense.

Yes, essentially I have made two factions here. Tauriel and Legolas for one side, and a joined but separate Loki and Thranduil. We will see which side wins. Like the Hunger Games, only not really anything like it.

And the end... it was mainly me babbling out a though related to something said about Loki and Thranduil sharing a dislike for Dwarfs. I just ended up... totally rambling about it. I'm sure it was horrible and boring, I'm sorry! I just think, if you look into Odin's character, he would have done things like that more than is indicated. I think Loki would have desperately tried every way in the world to win his approval, it just never happened, which is why I think she (or he in anything other than my current story almost) just lost it.

It is crazy hard for me to write lately and I don't know why, I really do try it just won't come out. It's all stuck even though I know what I want. I'm sorry for my slowness!


	8. Inhibitor

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_Inhibitor_

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN:Sum of Our Parts by Mary Lambert_

_Thank you all for the support, you make my days better! Also, let me conjure in all minds the graceful flow that is Loki fighting with Odin's staff and also the spear in Avengers. I am just always struck but how similar Loki is to elves in grace and form. It should have been a thing! I think there should have been a canon world where Loki was born an elf._

* * *

The room seemed as uncomfortable with the elleth being there as the Aesir; the magic was radiating displeasure like a living organism. Loki watched her carefully, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. With absolute certainty she knew the elf had not been this powerful any of the times they had encountered one another previously, even an infant version of herself would have felt something if it were not so. Whatever happened was recently added. Tauriel was a harsh presence full of brooding anger and blazing eyes. It reminded her of Hogun when he was in a rage; silent, calculating, and always deadly.

There was an obvious intent in the way the other woman walked; heel to toe in a deliberately slow advance. The way her eyes focused so clearly on Loki made it obvious she was searching for a response, leading to the obvious conclusion that she knew full well something would occur. She remained irritatingly silent though and that also made her every step a little more menacing. Loki stood ramrod straight, shoulders back and chin aloft with confidence, expression inscrutable because she could afford nothing less.

This was, for all intensive purposes, a more physical game of circling an opponent than what she had been doing all day with the king. It was, however, not particularly different. The recipient of her calculation was a lesser priority but the deadly potential was not less potent. The Captain was recovered and at the pinnacle of her capacity, while Loki was well on her way, she was not yet back to her zenith. Above all, she could not afford a flicker of response or fear into anything she did. Now was the time to muster up all her usual bravado she habitually held up as a shroud.

"To what do I owe this visit? More questions?" Loki was snide though polite in word, eyes a whip lash of fire as an undercurrent.

Tauriel kept the hint of a smile on her lips but her eyes narrowed with resolute intent, "The King does not allow dangerous individuals to linger within our walls. In the deepest prison, yes, but never so near. He keeps threats away from his people at all cost."

Jumping to the point, how refreshing! A direct approach seemed more this elleth's style to be sure, unlike the king or even his son.

Loki cocked her head to one side coyly, letting her hair trail off her shoulders and ensuring the other woman could see her ears, "Is there a point to your informative history lesson?"

The she-elf seemed to bristle slightly, voice tighter, though she kept a firm hold on herself, "You have done something to him, though I am not certain what. Our king guards his people with utmost care. He would never keep you here unless-"

"Unless I could be useful to him." Loki cut in blandly, letting her lack of interest show plainly, "Most commonly, that is the reason."

The venom dripping from Tauriel was growing in potency as she stared Loki down like she most likely would a known enemy she had been battling for years, "No, unless you had done something with your little tricks! He does not often allow even Elrond's people here, so why would he suddenly be willing to let you linger indefinitely?"

Loki's smile was malign at best, full of teeth, "Oh, silly me!" Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, "Why ever did I not consider that to be the only option open?"

Tauriel's eyes narrowed, brows turned down in unveiled annoyance, "You enjoy testing people to see when they might snap. That is a dangerous sort of game to play."

Ah, how many times had she heard something similar to that? Even her own mother chastised her for that particular vice. It might indeed be the death of her one day, but until then, she had no reason to hold herself back. If she was miserable, so should others be! No one was tender about their words to her so she saw no reason to offer favor where it had not been given.

Loki pursed her lips before sliding them back to a grin, "It is far more interesting that way. What is the world without a tiny bit of conflict? How would we know peace if we never understood chaos?"

"We have more than enough chaos." Tauriel spat, "Peace is what we lack and you will bring us nothing but grief!"

"How are you so certain?"

"I know evil when I look upon it."

* * *

Thranduil stared up into the distance, at the sky blotted by trees and the others lands distanced on the horizon, seeing but not seeing as his mind rambled on. The reports were spread out before him on the table and he liked none of it.

He had lived through much; Mordor, Dagorlad, and slight hints of Doriath among the multitude of battles. Many centuries he had spent watching the blood of his people stain the ground and color the rivers. It made him weary and morose. So much loss and ruin curdled behind his eyes with the passing of time and each day added to the sour memories. His people suffered and the world suffered on without end. Trouble loomed in the future, he felt it, could see it lurking over the horizon. Times always seemed uncertain so was it so strange for him to seek to gain more powerful tools and people to have at the ready?

The young could only see in black and white but those of age knew the reality of grey. Bargaining and taking sides was often unpleasant, leaving behind a bitter taste, but it was necessary for the survival of those entrusted to him. Legolas was so young, kept away from the ruin Thranduil had seen. Perhaps he sheltered his son too well from the reality of the courts but he could not fully bring himself to regret it. There was precious little he had left in his life and his son was one of those things. For one that had witnessed the death of so many he cherished in his life, could he be blamed?

His son was of an age now that he sought to come into his own power but he dearly wished the ellon had picked some other time. He knew it would come but with a Dragon as a neighbor, Spiders, Wargs, and other monsters steadily encroaching, this did not seem the best time. Legolas was stubborn, like his mother and also like himself. That un-tamable spirit was beautiful but it was equally troublesome. Perhaps he would have no choice but to speak in confidence with his son, tell him more of his plans in order to still the wild meandering of the youth.

Such a conversation had been long in coming, he would admit. He was loathed to see the light in those eyes crowded by the darkness of the world, staving it off as long as life would permit, and longer. Long ago in ages past, when he too was young, his light had been burned out to leave him desolate and numb, like the left side of his face. For Legolas, he hoped never to see the spark doused. There was no hope or mercy left in Thranduil and what little he had was directed only to those he still could hold close, his people. Many painted him a villain for that, those such as Oakenshiled, but he cared little for the opinions of others.

The Elvenking was not, and never would be Elrond, the kind and tolerant fool; risking the lives of his kind for the plights of trivial mortal uprisings that would never truly end. Mortals never grew tired of war and death so becoming entangled with them only ensure it would spread. No, he would never be Elrond no matter how many times the Grey Wizard preached unceasingly, speaking as if he brought shame upon his fathers name for his closed-minded stances! What would the Wizard know of limping over blood red ground with the scant few of his kin left alive after battle, or being crowned king before even being able to morn? Even Oakenshield knew more of that, and he would sympathize with him if he did not see so much of Thrór hiding within those eyes, not to mention his being a dwarf. Nimble fingers brushed aside a few errant platinum strands from his shoulder with more vehemence than usual out of irritation.

Closing his eyes to fend off his anger, shutting it within himself, he drew a long breath through his nose, holding it a while before setting it free. He was not emotional and he refused to be so; he was steady and strong, like a river. His glacial eyes fluttered open again to resume his observation of the overworld, never satisfied a dragon would not be seen in the distance until he was watching the horizon. So many times, staring out from this same place, the Valar had given him visions, and he rarely liked what he saw. The prophesy was clear enough and he had seen birds flying nearer and nearer to the desolation so it would come to pass one day that the foolish dwarfs would bungle their way about once more, he was no idealistic fool on the matter. Being a realist had kept him this long and it would continue to do so because it kept him a few steps ahead.

Slowly, his eyes glided down to the parchment and maps before he glanced fleetingly into the trees from his perch overlooking his lands. Once his son returned he would have need of a conference. It sickened him, the thought of displaying the ills awaiting them, letting them free from the confines of his mind, but he was beginning to see the need. Of course, he would not tell the ellon all, but he would divulge certain things of immediate concern.

The patrols would need to be increased. Loki's arrival had proven that much by how far she had come within their borders without detection. The Centuries seemed to have taken personal affront to her as well as the rest of the guard, which he could not count an ill outcome. It did them good to be tested rather than relying heavily on the forest itself to ward off intrusion for there were always those that could navigate it.. It would do them all service to learn that safety was often nothing better than an illusion, guarded though it might be.

Revisiting the foreign Queen was something else he had need of doing that evening, likely after most were asleep for he had much yet to speak with her about and no desire to be interrupted a second time. His people could be trusted but that did not mean they ought to know too much. Too many ears privy to any consultation often lead to very spoiled plans. There was a reason kings held tightly to counsels and kept them as small as possible.

A breath caught in his throat like the fingers of a ghost clamping tight accompanied by a sharp stab to his chest and he jerked to attention. His robes licked at his heels as he turned and sailed from the room, eyes piercing and posture daring anyone to be careless enough to step in his way, because he knew that sensation. Rage tickled in the back of his throat as he charged ahead, allowing his senses to guide him, following the disruption like a spider to prey. While he could only guess at the particulars, he knew the cause and he had a rather fair idea of the instigators. Someone would pay the price for disrupting the delicate balance in the magia, and he was in just the proper mood to dole out to the deserving. He had no time nor temper to constantly repair these rifts, what with Orcs prowling the borders like mutts seeking a meal.

"Surround the yard! Take no further action until I order it." The Elvenking all but growled to the guards on either side of the stairs, gliding past them even as they swiftly spread out as ordered; they wisely asked no questions or had no need of it, familiar with that particular severity of his tone.

The company was swift on the king's heels as they collectively descended the multitude of steps and branched away in droves, holding formation as well as if they were performing drills. They were silent save for the clinks and clangs of the armor strapped about them. There was a reason the patrols in the wood kept their armor far more sparsely placed.

For his part, he turned sharply down a hallway, feet soundless in his feline prowl, and onto the balcony. The fingers of both hands slowly curved over the chilled stone railing, the curves of his rings pressing against the surface and pushing back into his skin, grounding him as he slowly locked his grip. His jaw set instantly and the muscles ground together in his alertness to the tingling tint of the air accosting him, eyes instantly snapping outward with burning intensity, but his face was its usual mask of neutrality.

* * *

If Loki had a coin for every time she had been referred to as evil or looked upon as the great threat to one kingdom or other for her skills she would be wealthier than Odin himself. The elleth and the Prince looked at her the same way, both with loathing and fear. The Aesir tended to look upon her similarly, always with nervous smiles and carefully maintained distance. A few of them had to be aware of the secret, breeding the mass mistrust; a Jotunn Princess, cast off or not, could hardly be looked upon as a blessing. The servants could not be openly disrespectful so they simply shuffled about her as if simply being near her would cause them a horrific death. The noblemen were allowed to be open with their distaste because they knew they would be excused without incident. Odin and Thor spoke no better of her and thus all were free to voice their ill opinion of the "trickster".

Had her situation been slightly different and her mood a different shade of dark brooding she was sure she would have laughed herself into a stupor. At least the all majestically powerful Elvenking was too cultured to look at her that way openly. He almost seemed to respect her, so far as anyone would respect a prisoner, which was a point of favor for him; being kept as Odin's weapon had not even garnered her that much. Perhaps the reason was closely tied to his own power; she somehow felt it in some way kin to her own methods.

Loki made a petulant show of crossing her arms under her breasts, "Why are you so insufferably persistent when it is likely only to bring you grief?" The look she leveled the elf with was irritable and pointedly long-suffering.

Tauriel was not as easily swayed by that look as Thor for she did not flinch, speaking only with clearest conviction, "If I am wrong about the danger you pose I will gladly accept punishment for any ill I cause... but if I am correct, then I would never forgive myself for idly standing by to watch you destroy and burn my people and all I love from within. I will protect my home with my life."

The Aesir hummed noncommittally, nodding in response, "A true warrior then. Pity those seem to come to poor ends more often then not, crushed by the cruelty of the world." She loathed such people though she did not say as much out loud, "You sound so very young...naive when you speak so, dear Captain. Those like you would do best to open their eyes sooner than later to reality and understand that there is no reality that will not crush your spirit and idealism. The world does not reward those like you."

At last, the calm of the elleth seemed to reach its limitations and those earthy eyes narrowed to slits, her fingers shaking slightly at her sides, "Cast your advice elsewhere, witch!"

"It was not advice, merely an observation. I pity you the future you will carve for yourself."

"Pity your own fate for evil also comes to poor ends. We lock it away in eternal darkness!" The characteristic blades of the Silvan appeared with a swift and slight motion from the Captain and she took a stance instantly.

The Aesir quirked her brows in surprise, head jerking back to crane her neck as if a different angle would change the situation. All thoughts to hold up the facade of peaceful and sublime captive dissolved as her anger caught up with her. It was a beast only held off so long but there were few times better than in the face of battle to set it free. If she was frightening enough, lesser opponents would reconsider. The Captain would not be daunted, she knew, but neither would a Queen be cowed. As a matter of fact, given the chance so freely, she welcomed a second opportunity at the red haired menace.

The Elvenking could not hold her in contempt for defending her own life, now could he? What judge would fault her for resisting? So long as she did not kill the little thing it would be well in hand. While she clearly could not allow herself utter freedom, nothing to tip her hand, she could play a little. Thor at least knew how to release his rage, she would extend him that token.

The glint in her green eyes was predatory as well as vicious and she knew it, "Oh, I am not sure you wish to test me, girl! You might regret the choice."

The blade swirled around Tauriel's hand and she simply smiled a tight lipped smile, "We shall see." And with that, she cut the air with a wickedly fast strike, one even the swiftest mortal beings would not be able to escape; lucky for Loki she was not some mortal.

Dancing back rapidly, she avoided the slice with little effort, healed quite enough to be without hindrance. Logically though, she knew merely sidestepping could only take her so far; even now the dear Captain was pulling back for another swing. The room was large enough for a single occupant and one guest, but it was not conducive to a fight, and that would be inconvenient.

No choice then, she assured herself with no hindering from her conscience; it would indeed turn into a battle. Even so, she refused to be predictable! Tauriel clearly wanted a fight but there had to be a little more to this ploy. Best guess, the elf wanted her to draw her sword the way she had in the throne room and attack with all malice so she could announce how dangerous the witch was. Still, she needed to defend herself but that did not mean fueling the fire against herself. The elf would have her fight but on terms set by Loki.

Her arm extended, fingers flexing as she drew upon her reserves, prying open the little chasm with her weapons to call one forth. It came, as it always did, long metal body of her polished golden staff slapping into her palm obediently. It was an impressive piece, long and etched with runes, an orb of green - her own stored seidr - at the head linked into the elegantly curved spear point.

Tauriel's expression fell and tensed at the same time, more than shocked enough to pause in her attack, instinctively taking a step back. With nothing but a shift of sorceress' hold and a thought, the spearhead contorted and retreated in to frame the stone and blunt itself; it was rendered essentially harmless though useful enough when killing was not the intent.

Round one had a clear victor but Loki was allowed to revel in it for only a short time as a string snapped inside her. Her balance wavered, knees weakening for an instant as her vision faded out until she blinked it back. Norns, that simple act had taken so much from her, depleting her stores more rapidly than she was used to! Like trying to draw water free one drop at a time. But why? Her brows turned down in confusion, lips parting in surprise. Why had she felt that tiny snap inside her chest? Was it the room, the elleth, or something she carried? What was causing this?

It could really be only one thing. Loki's eyes narrowed in menacing anger even as she worked to slow the quickened pace of her heart. The elf carried something - a magic inhibitor was the likely culprit. It would explain why the barrier was struggling so to remain in place. Perhaps the elf had not considered that inevitability but it was an obvious side effect. This item was strong indeed, it had to be. Bloody rotten elf! What did humans say? There was a word they were fond of using that had to do with linage and legitimacy at birth. Elves had one too but both slipped her mind.

Tauriel did not miss the way she had faltered and took the chance she was so obviously afforded, surging forward.

That was enough to jolt Loki from the moment, her body responding before her mind as she threw up her staff to block and the metals ground together noisily, "Captain, I feel I would be remiss," the grin that split Loki's face leaked all the madness of her pent up anger coiled within, teeth clenched in a silent snarl, "were I to neglect to warn you that I know you are no match for me." The outlet for her anger gave her muscles more than she expected they currently had to offer, but she took it gladly as she drove the other woman back, following her with a few warning swings. "I do not seek to part your head from your shoulders but you would be wise to cease your efforts to motivate me!"

The elleth swallowed as she stared into overly wide green eyes, the hints of alarm hiding deeply within but not far enough to keep them fully hidden, "You already gave me what I needed. I warned you I intended to discover how large a threat you posed and you provide the answers."

The Aesir frowned, cocking her head in question, curious now as her anger dwindled in the face of a puzzle even if she did not relent, "Exactly what do you mean?"

Tauriel's answer was a sharp bark, "Guards!"

So she was indeed correct about there being more to the little plot! Loki growled low in her chest, eyes darting to the door when it clapped hard against the wall as it swung open with a slight ripple to the surroundings as four guards charged forward with two more posting themselves at the door. How fortunate that she had not brought out a sword, something to really damn herself with! A staff was not so threatening, or she assumed not. Not that there was any way to know the minds of those on a different realm, of course, but it would seem more logical. If the goal was to demonstrate her ability to use her magic, then it had been proven. Even so, her choice of weapon should count for something! No one could shift it back to the spearhead save herself, so they could prove little. This elf was becoming a problem though!

So confident in a move well played, Tauriel did not even move away, leaving her blade connected to the long staff; thus Loki flung the Captain to the side with a harsh twist of the stick, unbalancing the other woman. One guard did not take kindly to that and was swinging a weapon before Tauriel even righted herself, but that was not strictly unexpected. Loki moved to a hunch on her knees, letting his sword connect with her raised staff, using his momentum to swing him up and over her in a grand flip (practicing with Thor and his friends was good for something, it seemed). They hardly gave her time to pivot for the next hit, one she felt rattle her bones most unpleasantly, but she at least blocked it, though she was unable to hold her ground against this one, and she had to let him shove her as another elf moved too close. Her feet responded quickly enough, legs tight coils and ready to move her even as her back hit the wall. She rolled him off into the nearest ellon but a new one was coming before she could move far.

"I feel this an entirely unfair exchange!" Loki blocked a swing and countered with a solid punch of the end of the staff to the soldiers chest, "Especially considering I was forced into it." She rolled gracefully away when a swing came dangerously close to cutting into her leg, but she continued the casual banter as if unconcerned, "And I must protest this assault on my person!"

They were not interesting in speaking. Snarling, yes, but not speaking. That did not particularly phase her. Talking during a fight always had been a skill of hers. It distracted the adversary while making her seem quite calm regardless of how frazzled she might be. She had an agenda anyway considering the walls had eyes and ears and those walls would get back with the king. He simply had to be near by, she was positive because she could almost feel him, the taste of his magic a spice in her nose even if she had no time to actively look for him given her current need to focus on the little group jabbing at her; or perhaps that was only his magic she felt.

Tauriel did not charge her again, seeming content to allow the others to, and that did seem odd. She supposed it had something to do with the decided care with with the elleth watch her battle. The Captain could watch all she liked, for this was not the extent of her skills, nor even of her viciousness. In this fight she could not kill and that changed everything. Were the situation different, and her attackers monsters, she would have made quick work of them; fighting to incapacitate rather than kill greatly encumbered her.

The second she spotted a hole in their grouping, she dove for it, skidding on her bare feet as she bolted. The kings magic rippled and rolled over her like tendrils, snapping away like irritable vines when she pushed herself down the hallway; he would feel that but she had no time to care. Escapes were her specialty and it was not really their fault if they lost her, she decided ruefully, chuckling loudly enough for them to hear. They were immensely quick though, on her heels as soon as she was out the door, but she did not bother casting a glance back. Anyone in their right mind knew a small room was no place to engage more than one adversary and she found herself less than interested in doing so. In fact, she did not see fit to play the game at all! Perhaps she should have waited to see what the next move would have been but she guessed it had quite a lot to do with aforementioned dark dungeon and a lot of rough treatment, which did not interest her either.

Once she was distanced from Tauriel she would be free to use her power as she wished without obstruction; inhibitors only worked at a close range. Until she could slip their eye and gain a considerable distance form the inhibitor, even the staff with its storage might be limited so evasion with the occasional parry was her best option. If she escaped to hide within the castle and the hive hallways she would essentially have utter control. Reliance on even the King might prove unnecessary and that was not the least appealing prospect she could encounter. Such a plan might be a bit brash but it was nothing she had not considered at length before. If that proved impossible, she would simply seek him out (though he might already be seeking her) and convince him of her current plight; copious amounts of tears and throwing herself at his feet would surely go a long way in securing her future; it would not be the first time she played that particular trick. He was male and he needed her anyway.

The speed she was moving in made it impossible to stop when she turned a corner to find steep stairs waiting and she only just managed to drop to the next floor rather than down several more than that, and she rolled stiffly to her feet, ignoring the knife twist ache in her ankles and knees...back too. The loudness of her pursuers was quite helpful in judging distance as they clattered behind her, jumping the stairs with far more grace. But they cheated, this was their home. The halls were narrow and ill suited for a fight and thus they could not surround her unless they came up on her other side, which they might. She was running blind and they could spring a frontal block on her at any time, which was no comfort, but she changed directions enough to hopefully thwart such tactics. Open ground was dangerous too, more chances for their comrades to join and less potential for hiding. Alternate courses that involved neither option were not in existence so far as she knew. Were she able to find it the multiple paths near the section of the throne might be her best option.

Loki skidded when she saw one of the guards scaling the wall as if that too was as easily done as climbing trees and she understood keenly that he would be dropping on her any moment. Sneaky, like mice climbing the walls! Decent strategy if not for the sheer amount of hallways, and Loki was quick to swerve back and into one, costing herself time and a close call with a blade, but evasion was worth a risk or two in her past experience. They could be forcing her direction but she had no time to think on that.

The dress and her overall attire was not exceptionally conducive to battle nor fleeing, too much fabric and flowing sleeves and belts and ribbon. What she would not give for her own familiar and practical clothing! But no use-

With a gasp, she jerked herself to a stop, swerving on her toes to retreat back the way she had come but it is already too late. The Captain and guards were already slithering out the small door to bar her. The glare she offered them was withering but they offer no response. While she had never seen this side of the castle, with the water gushing by and the trees looming high to create a protective canopy, it was very much outside. Exactly where she did not wish to go! If not for pride, she would openly admit it was well played, but she happens to have a good portion of that and thus simply wished to melt them with her stare.

"Is this the point at which we bargain, Captain? Or is this where your archers rain arrows upon me for leaving the confines of the palace?" Everything from her tone to her posture was scathing and wrought with disdain, "Now that you forced me to run, ensured I would break rules while I attempted to remain alive, what is your intention?"

Tauriel was emotionless, stoic as a tree as she walked calmly forward, blades fixed in her palms, "You will leave as you were intended to in the beginning, or you will be chained and confined. Those are your only choices until we take audience with his majesty once again to revisit the terms of your stay. You may plead your case to him then as we also plead ours."

The rage she felt when she was first sentenced to a fate among unknown monsters bubbles to life as she stared at the impassive creatures before her. If a little elf believed she could best a Queen of Asgard, she should have considered trying harder! Inhibitor or not, the fight had only just begun! _May Hela take that head of red hair!_

Loki bowed her head, slumping her shoulders in a relaxed stance, but it only lasted long enough to put the Captain at ease. The moment she waved the guards in for an arrest was the moment Loki swung the heavy end of the cane at her head with enough force to crack even the skull of an elf. The Edhel were more alert and lithe than one might expect however, and the willowy woman dropped backward, bending at the back and tipping her head in a display so graceful it seemed as if she knew to expect it. Still, Loki was well past being shocked, fury quieting any voices save those whispering for revenge, and she twirls the staff to redirect its end for the elleth's feet.

Instinct alone drove Loki to jump back and swirl her form before her own attack was finished, narrowly evading an impressive blades swipe for her head. Off balance, she staggered desperately to avoid the two guards moving on her on either side. With what precious little grace she still possessed, she skirted between the spread legs of one and threw herself behind a tree. Even knowing their skill in the trees, she climbed anyway, using her staff as a balancing rod as she raced over branches. Her main idea, her only plan left to her, was to find her way back through that door and hide herself in whatever dark corner she can find.

When she landed, bare feet sinking hard into dirt and grass, just a few steps from the door, her ribs exploded with bright hot pain. She could not help her loud yelp as she hit the ground on her back, swearing venomously at the faceless bruit that kicked her; she was fully aware that anger was the singular thing that had her back on her feet, but she saved questioning it for later. Rather than dwell, she launched herself, using the staff, and plated both feet firmly into his chest, following him to the ground before she sprang away. She pivoted with her staff as if in a dance and slammed her shoulder into the next, which would not have hurt nearly as much had she been in her own armor. But she would take the pain and let it ground her mind before she slipped to the calling madness she knew possessed her on a distant bridge and a closer dais. It took no thought to become lost in the slash and sway of battle and she found it somehow easy to face Tauriel in the familiar haze even as they locked in a swiftly paced dance. The Edhel fought as she did and it was alarming and beautiful at once to be so entrenched.

"_**Explain!**_" The low clap of sound stilled every figure as if the single word had been a lash from a whip that struck all simultaneously and all eyes drifted upward to the source.

There, towering like the gods of old, daunting and untouchable, stood the solemn and regal figure, crown glinting like antlers in the light. His eyes were cold and unnatural as the carved stone walkway he stood upon but burned as they traveled to land individually on each standing, or cowering on the level beneath. Even Loki was somehow awed and consequently mollified. In that moment she thought the Elvenking a perfect and utterly fierce mixture of Odin and Frigga embodied together and she too could scarcely resist the urge to take a few paces back.

When he was met with only petrified silence he arch a single dark brow, eyes drifting pointedly to Tauriel. For her part, the she-elf slipped into her role instantly, a mask of calm nearly visible as it fell over her features. The warriors about her jerked to full attention and resumed a typical statuesque stance, but seemed only too ready to allow her to face the great king looming above; she still wished to see the elf in Niffleheim, brave or not. They could all go to the death queen so far as Loki was concerned!

Even though her every single wish was to jump in as the elleth and guards demeaned her in their swift retelling, she remained silent. Only the guilty were quickest to speak, or so Odin had said many times, and she refused to lower herself to a child's level. Her stance was careful, chin held high and proud with her lips firmly closed. Judging by the fact that he ordered not a single guard to her side, allowing her to simply stand, proved he knew she would take no action. The Elvenking noticed her silence and a good deal more, she could tell it each time he cast glances in her direction even if they were fleeting. Slanderous though they were, the elves had not lied regardless of the ill light they painted her in. The Captain did hold off on giving even a word to what began it though, and Loki waited, hands clasped behind her back, staff locked in her fingers and level with the ground. The king would ask and she knew it.

When he did it was sudden and the flood of justification rushing in her veins was sweet.

"We were having a perfectly calm discussion, my lord, until she drew her blades and unjustly attacked me." Loki cut across anything the elleth was about to say, calm and demure as Frigga ever wished to see her daughter.

Tauriel's head swiveled between the king above and the Aesir queen to her right but she spoke with little hesitance, "I will not deny the provocation was my own doing. I forced her hand... intentionally."

If the king was shocked he did not deign to let it show even under the careful scrutiny of Loki, "What did you hope to accomplish in doing this besides the endangerment of any and all that might cross your path?"

For her part, Tauriel had the decency to look properly ashamed, "I took a risk in order to attain a solution. My intent was not to cause harm and I took precautions to be sure no innocents would come to harm."

"Foresight." Loki murmured dryly, "How cunning of you," her voice was lowered to a whisper on the last few words, "while you _defied_ your ruler."

The elleth glared but gave no further reaction, focusing instead on the king above.

"You believe that makes your actions ones to condone? Simply because you used caution while disobeying my _explicit instructions_ you deem it acceptable?" Those brows were lifted derisively and his tone was as cutting as she might ever have heard, "I find myself less inclined to agree... _however_, I am feeling m_erciful_ so I offer you one chance to give me reason to lessen your punishment before I pronounce it."

The tension in the Captain was instantly tighter and her company nearly snapped their bodies too tightly as they waited. While Thranduil spoke verbally of mercy his tone begged to differ. They would be fortunate to hold a single rank among them, and Loki struggled to hold back her smirk. The guards hiding about in the trees and along the walls seemed tenser as well even if they were likely in no particular danger as those directly related were. The day had turned out far more entertaining than could have been predicted!

Tauriel took a few step forward, "I can prove its usefulness, my king." She turned her eyes upon Loki then with a wicked gleam, "For she can no longer perform magic."

Loki sneered in irritation before she could stop herself, "I have it in my blood! You can no more take it from me than you can this forest."

"Perhaps," Tauriel spoke so evenly and with such a chilling sureness, "but even the darkest magia and goetia have been locked away by the right means. We have easily locked away far greater powers in the past than you possess."

The guards were flanking Loki in an instant when her eyes darkened and she slipped her staff back around to slam the tip into the ground as something of a wordless declaration of intent. The Captain was goading her and she knew it but that did not stop her pride and strong will from showing its head. The two stared each other down as if looks alone could rot away the flesh from bone but Loki found herself ill at ease, sensing the elf was playing at more than insult. When slender fingers reached around green garments and beneath the thick leather of her belt, it was confirmed with a stone held out for all to see.

Palm lifted, Tauriel looked to the balcony, "Using this, we can prevent her from utilizing her powers even if we cannot prevent them from returning with her strength. Bind it to her and she will be as helpless as an infant, I suspect. We can lock them away and she will be containable for she has not used her spells once since summoning her staff... and I saw how it cost her."

Her rage had never gone far, embers waiting to be fanned when forced it out of mind, but it had never dwindled, and Loki found it anew as she stared at that all too confident face, "_That_ is what you have been hiding?" It took more of her royal instruction than she expected not to spit at the creature.

"Yes, and when it is bound to your neck we will have nothing to fear from you." Tauriel closed her fingers around it once more but lowered it only slightly.

"You underestimate me! I am no weapon for you to bind with trinkets and lock away, I am Queen of Asgard!" The cutting edges of fear were slicing into her and she could do nothing but persist, "Presuming me weak would be your first mistake! I wish your _realm_ no ill, but you do so tempt me in regards to _your_ person."

"Dethroned." Tauriel corrected quietly, "Deposed Queen, you mean to say?"

Loki lunged forward, sedate demeanor forgotten as she snarled, her only well structured thoughts involving a bloody sort of ending for the woman, "You **mewling qu**-" her body lurched to a stop, her sides crushed between guards as her wrists were harshly wretched behind her and the staff twisted from her hold; though her heart was pounding from anger, instinct forced back her desire to resist when Thranduil stepped before her view, silent and swift as ever. Exactly when had he come down?

The staff was in his hands and he studied it with an inscrutable eye, noting the runes as it twirled in his deft fingers, but he looked no more agitated than he had from a distance, "Where did you come by this stone, Tauriel?" Their fight did not give him cause to halt his questioning, it seemed.

"It was kept in the armory. I removed it to test a theory considering she is of the dark magia and goetia. It is said to have hindered Sauron's wizards of old so I thought it might be useful against her as well." The elleth's posture was as stiff as any soldier and twice as tense.

"You assume too much, you** dull** creature!" Loki hissed, though she found it in herself to control her tone a sight more, "I knew what you carried almost the moment you walked into my room. It is an inhibitor, my people posses them as well, and it works against _any_ magic, including his!" Her head jerked toward the Elvenking for lack of free motion, "Did you not see how his barriers struggled against it?"

Thranduil's eyes traveled painfully slowly until they fell on Loki's face, darkened with a disquieting curiosity, as if he were seeing something afresh. In that moment she knew she had admitted far too much on many accounts. Her hearts stuttered painfully, eyes dropping low, and a heaviness settling into her chest. Judgement had fallen somewhere behind in the tunnels when her anger decided it would reign over all else. Her actions could kindly be called foolish and careless if being given the most gentle terminology. Her own words had been damning on many fronts at best. Crawling herself into a howl to die would have been her most appealing option.

Without a moment of to-do, he slipped the black stone from the elleth's fingers and held it up to the light before muttering, "Yes, I can see how this might give our guest a bit of trouble." Thranduil was sauntering away with that, ordering Loki to be chained and for the company in its entirety to accompany him to the throne room. Further discussion was apparently needed on all subjects, or so he stated blithely. With him went the stone as well as her staff but she knew perfectly well this was far from finished. When Frigga moved a discussion into a different room, especially a formal one, all parties were soon to regret any and all ill acts. If anything, relocation was indication that it had only just begun; in younger days, the threat of moving to another room with their mother had been enough to make Thor confess every sin he could remember in a long string of words that were not even given a breath between. This king, she thought, was no different; in constant control, perfectly composed, but far from easily swayed. The night was very young, the sun only just starting to set even if it was not visible through the thick tree branches.

The promise of an ordeal to leave neither the Edhel or the Aesir on firm ground was assured. Thranduil spoke calmly and gave no indication of anger since the first few moments but she was unquestionably sure that none of the facade was real. Such a stoic countenance belied swift and raging retribution. This king did not yell and scream as Odin did, using subtle looks and low spoken words to strike the fear of whatever gods this realm held into the heart and mind. Looking about her as they marched behind the king, she knew her assumptions to be correct as they all looked as if they were being marched to a death by incineration, as well might be true.

* * *

AN:Tauriel and everyone else get their punishment, their comeuppance next time, have no fear. (it would have made this too long) Thranduil is actually not that forgiving. He's livid, really, but he is so calculating that you cannot always tell till he snaps and cuts your bow in half!

Don't kill me for altering canon...this is an AU... and Marvel changes things all the time so I feel justified...

While I am aware that the staff from Avengers was given to him by the Other and Thanos, I pretended otherwise. Loki was so amazing with that thing! It was made for him, absolutely perfect for his fighting style. It was versatile too and could change size and shape depending on what Loki needed. Throwing knives are Loki's thing in Thor but I feel that it was always a little unfair (what is new) that Loki never really had a signature weapon like Thor or Odin... so... we will pretend... The staff is just a magicy thing and in no way linked to the Tesseract. I want it to be a thing and Loki was amazing with Odin's staff too, so I say it's a thing much needed.

And I'm sorry, I really am! I know I'm not doing well but I'm trying to! I'm trying to update faster! And...not make it suck... I'm failing, but I'm trying.


	9. One King to a Queen

**_~=Eitho nin=~_**

~Aid Me~

_One King to a Queen_

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

* * *

FT

Control had always been a vein running so intrinsically deep within Thranduil that he never thought to question it. He was born knowing he must always remain above and ahead of everyone else for he was born into a world of darkness and war, with great powers ever on the rise and lingering just over the horizon, within and without of his people. He remembered fearful and hushed conversations between his mother and father over all her fears and of elflings being stolen away by the enemy for atrocious reasons; she always worried so and never seemed to feel safe.

The halls were blissfully, or wisely, vacant as if word had already hit the swift moving current of the hidden world that all should avoid the coming storm. The Elvenking was far from oblivious to the stiff, static tension in the air around him and he was glad of it; part of him enjoyed it to an extent.

Thranduil allowed for few things to offer him little sadistic thrills but punishment of those in the wrong had a way of bleeding through to his senses. It was not that he was unaware he must be wary of that feeling, he knew, for it meant he could be swallowed by it in his wrathful moments.

Cold, knowing eyes flick ahead and over the walls in absentminded notation of how many in the company hid themselves in the small spaces they seemed to think were unseen. His own wife had been like his mother only in her majestic grace and unfathomable perfection that turned even menial tasks into somehow beautiful dances. She had been a brave creature, free as the wind in spirit, fluid as the waters, and unstop-ably gentle and kind. Thranduil was a cold spirit, calculating and untouchable after he was given the crown, terrified of stepping just wrong and causing even more of his people to die at his feet; and made more so by his hatred of the world for all it had shattered. She balanced him and softened his hard edges, but with her gone he relied only on his control. He held fast to it and never let it go, he cannot, must not, because foolish choices were made when control was allowed to wash away. It was too dangerous, too much of a risk for a king to allow.

Recklessness caused many a monarch to destroy all he held dear, he had watched it so many times and he would not become one in those ranks. In this moment, however, he felt his control just slipping lightly through his fingers like water. Imperceptibly, his hands were shaking, teeth ground tightly together as he marched far more stiffly than could ever be comfortable, not to mention the tension in his shoulders would undoubtedly catch up with him tomorrow for just how tightly his muscles were corded. There was rage just begging to be let out and that might be because it had been building terribly over the past few days; an intruder into his so carefully guarded world, Legolas brooding and constantly flying in the face of every rule he set down, and the Captain of his guard that he played a measurable part in raising had now gone and made everything he was working so hard to achieve that much harder!

Could he be faulted for considering actually wrapping his hands around the necks of all of them and not feeling even slightly guilty about it for days? Probably, actually, but the desire was still there linger in the back of his mind. As it was, he contemplated all the very worst things he could do to all of them, how best to cause them the most trouble for the least amount of problems falling back into his lap.

He was trying to regain his temper but they had been pushing so very far. His tongue ran over the inside of his teeth as he walked, mulling over what to say… and restraining the urge to order each of their executions. While punishment had need of being memorable, that was a little excessive. Perhaps he could send them all to Elrond, or better yet, Galadriel.

* * *

The cold bite of shackles was against her wrists once again and it was just so typical Loki thought she ought to be right at home that way by now. The tension was palpable all around her and the soldiers were stepping lightly, not touching her any more than was strictly and utterly necessary because she had a feeling they were afraid to. The _further discussion_ the King had in mind was aimed at all of them, with the exclusion of possibly a _few_ guards that had not taken part in the nefarious plot, but that did not stop the entire group from following him like kicked puppies. Thranduil held her staff and the Captain's stone and there was no way to tell what he intended doing with them.

Indeed, no party even remotely attached to the issue would be left untouched and they all sensed it. They were all undoubtedly familiar with the quietly raging retribution of this king as Asgard was the boisterously snarled shouts and railing of Odin.

Regardless, that stone was soon to be the bane of her existence, she knew it. The Captain made a brilliant scheme and Loki had stumbled in blindly. It was something Loki herself might have put into motion in a different role; it was a well rounded trap indeed! She could flee, ensuring her death, or stay and be collared like a dog. The king would use that little stone, she knew that, because he had no choice at this point. Even if he would have refused the idea privately, for whatever nonexistent reason he hypothetically might have had, it was public knowledge now and his people would wish her restrained.

If the Captain thought the king possessed, which she seemed to on some level, forcing his hand was quite brilliant. It would not be the first time she had been placed under such a hindrance for Odin himself had done similar things to punish her. She would endure it and sneer in the face of all that expected her to cower. She had never been easily beaten. Still, it would be troublesome to be forced to contend with not only an entire realm of magic fighting against her own, but also an inhibitor drudged up for Norns knew where.

Though, speaking of the Norns, if ever she doubted their enmity she would cease to do so for it was clear as day. They never once allowed her a moment of victory, not a tiny moment!

Her singular consolation in all this was the fact that she would not be the only one receiving the punishment. The admittedly large vindictive side of her awaited those moments with unbridled glee and sadistic anticipation. Whatever happened during this exchange, she fervently hoped she was allowed to watch every glorious moment before she too was handed some manner of judgment.

The throne room really was a thing of wonder with lights of some nature flickering above, causing glittering stones embedded in the roof to reflect and amplify it. The twisting vines and rock was crafted so perfectly it was as if these creatures had taken no tools to carve it and rather persuaded it to form the passages and platforms and domes. Perhaps that was exactly how they had done it, taming the gorgeous place of nature to the will of the Eldar. Everything about it was spectacular in its raw untamed elegance and cold, harsh beauty that so fit the inhabitants.

Green eyes followed the Elvenking up the dais as he took each step as if it personally offended him and she watched the tension in each following form increase as they too watched. The hem of his robes billowed outward as he spun on his heels, lingering beside his throne without sitting upon it. The staff was given a perch, leaned there casually before he locked his hands behind his back. He was grace itself, forcing a regal sort of casual leaning into his every move but his eyes were flint as he gazed over them all.

"Shall we begin?" Like a great eagle settling into its nest after a successful hunt, the great ellon perched himself in the ornate set of antlers and woven branched that composed his throne.

The six guards along with Tauriel stood to either side of Loki, center stage before the throne. All others stood a step behind, where it was safer. The king's guards were the only ones stood more closely, daring to be to the sides of the throne only because they likely had absolutely no part in events and were thus free of blame.

Loki arched a brow patronizingly as she looked about. When she caught the dear Captain's eye, she winked at the elleth. Tauriel's brows twitched, her eyes crinkling at the sides, her nose scrunching at the top in an attempt not to openly glare. The guards at her sides exchanged glances of disgust or concern, not used to the shows of disruption Loki typically extended in court. The guards in Asgard were always unsettled by her lighthearted antics as well, but it relieved her stress to sew unrest in others.

The clink of chains and the weight of shackles did nothing to sway her anymore. Granted, even as many times as she had been brought before a throne to be punished she was rarely less anxious than her first, but she had learned how to deal with it. Putting on a show of disinterest unnerved people, and that caused her much needed distraction and entertainment. Besides, being disciplined was one of the few things to put her in the spotlight; one of the few places she ever occupied without Thor there to overshadow her, so she accepted the attention where she found it. Reveling in the attention was one of the best methods of survival when at another's mercy; it made them believe she always had something up her sleeve to make her so bold. Some even in Asgard admired her that, lackadaisical, laissez-faire nature.

"In times of trial and uncertainty," Thranduil began slowly, a distinct air of loftiness present in his every well enunciated word, "it is ones own people they must cling to. For the elves of the Greenwood corrupted, with our numbers strong but few, this is even truer than in some cases of other peoples." Steel eyes slammed into every figure below like a harpoon. "But when that trust is broken, the trust of blood and bond, it leaves room for discord and destruction to prevail."

The Elvenking allowed the echo of his words to die completely before he continued, "We have seen countless kingdoms crumble and die in our lives." The look in his eyes and the depth of his voice to couple with it sent little shivers up Loki's spine, "It is for this reason that I must punish any who threaten the continued survival of my kin, be that within or from without. Before I pronounce punishment, however, any wishing it may speak in their own defense."

Something about his words, or the honest pain hiding in the depths of them struck a cord in the Aesir. There was something different about the way he spoke versus the way Odin spoke. There was something captivating in the emotion beneath the surface. It made her a little desperate to know more about this past of his, why there was such sadness hiding so deep. Something about the way his deep-seated emotions made his innate magic flair and darken intrigued her more than she could understand… and it almost called to her own darker leaning seidr.

There was silence for quite a long time. His little speech seemed to have drained the mutiny right out of the crowd. Some were actually squirming in place, eyes shifting in expectation of a lightning bolt to strike them but others just withered in place as if he actively drained life from them. They looked more remorseful than defensive. Frigga could reduce her audience to frightened, tearful and guilty puddles with only a few eloquently worded lines as well.

"My lord," Tauriel placed a fist over her heart in a bow, "it is my belief and wish that those with me should not be punished, for the previous events were of my orchestration and they did nothing but follow my orders."

"I have already taken that into account; however, I also took into account their show of loyalty." The Elvenking noticed each and every flinch and looked to be drinking it all in, "A captain may give an order in contradiction to a king's word; after contradicting orders are given it is up to the individual whom they follow. As your king I pledged my life to upholding the safety of my kin, just as Oropher pledged and sacrificed his to these lands, and thus all I do is in honor and defense of those vows. Disregarding my word, no matter how well intentioned, endangers the kingdom and my ability to defend it."

Well, if that did not put them in their place, nothing would. Loki had a distinct feeling there had been a low blow hiding somewhere in his words, potentially bringing up what she guessed was his dead predecessor, but it worked flawlessly to utterly silence any further protests. He was good! She gave him that.

He made the gesture of offering to hear arguments once again before continuing to the main event. "All those directly involved in the incident, those following Tauriel's actions, will have an immediate extension of perimeter patrols. Orgilian and Orbelain will pass by three times before you may return instead of passing only once. The rotation of names, however, will remain the same to cause the least amount of confusion, but that will also shorten the time you may be posted inside the palace gates."

Orgilian and Orbelain she believed were days in a week, so she translated the statement to mean they would be out three weeks without being allowed to return home. Loki shifted her arms a bit, swaying her weight on the balls of her feet as she tried not to laugh at the disheartened expressions. That did seem unpleasant, being out there that much longer each time they were on the roster.

Thranduil continued stoically, hardly looking at his audience, more looking right through them, "As for the Captain of the Guard, for her brash disregard for order and for dereliction of duty to her king, Captain Tauriel will also patrol the same length of time." He waved an elegant finger toward the guard at his right side, "During which time Cíldaer shall fill her place."

Postures consecutively stiffened as a few very quiet gasps went around. They reacted more strongly to that than they had the first decree. Tauriel herself looked as if she had been punched directly in the face before her expression smoothed into bitter, accepting, neutrality. Loki was unsure exactly what transpired, not being closely versed in the militant ranking system of the realm. He used the words each meaning captain, but one was **_Arathalben_** and the other was _Thalben_. If the shocked expressions surrounding her were to give indication, there was significant difference hiding in the words.

Thraunduil sat back casually, relaxed and at ease with utterly disrupting his entire company, pleased too if she read the wicked glint in his eye correctly, "After Tarnin Austa has passed, I will take your punishment under review." The King managed to look even farther down his nose at all present, "Until which time I suggest you give me reason to lift your punishment."

All heads dipped in a reverent bow of submission and understanding, fists moving up over their hearts.

Without being of the culture she could not be sure just how Tauriel's _Captain of the Guard_ moniker had been changed but she gathered that the dear girl had been dropped down at least a peg. This other ellon had now been lifted to acting or temporary Arathalben until the former was no longer on disciplinary ban. Oh, that must have stung! Cíldaer did not look ecstatic either, in fact, he had paled considerably and his posture was much tighter, which was also amusing. The golden-brown haired little thing looked a bit like he might be feeling rather ill or perhaps nearing tears; poor little elf. He looked suddenly smaller and if she had been some other manner of lady, she would have felt compelled to hug him. Was it because he had not wanted to shift positions, she wondered, or because he was worried about the others?

Happiness did not abound in the halls but that was typically the sign of a good ruling. If no one left happy, it was a just punishment for all. Once her turn came it would likely mean she would be no less unhappy, but she would enjoy it in others before she had to take a turn.

From what she gathered, the perpetrators would remain on patrol three times longer than normal before being allowed home. It was the opposite of confining them to quarters but revolved around the same idea. The kingdom likely could not afford to spare any bodies or risk piling responsibility too high on the others left. It was actually rather brilliant; quadruple the work on those being punished rather than cause the innocent more work. In this world, Loki supposed he might have just upped their chance of being injured or even killed by extending their exposure to what lay beyond the walls. All that dark magic would be very hard to endure constantly.

She had a distinct hunch the king had just ensured his son and the Captain would not be seeing each other for some time. A very wise choice on his part, she felt sure. He could smell a conspiracy just as well as she could and he was making moves in the game to thwart it.

The platinum main was flung dramatically off one shoulder as he stared down his subjects, the strong fingers of his other hand drumming at his knee, "I am aware all of you are uncomfortable with my ruling…" the frosty eyes took a glance at Cíldaer and his lieutenant, "but I hope it will serve as a reminder the next time any of this realm consider acting recklessly without first consulting me." The group as a whole, even the ones not involved went rigid; the king was not at all finished and they knew it.

His jaw was set, chin aloft and voice as cold as ice, "Consider yourself fortunate, Tauriel."

Singled out, the elleth lifted her head, "Of course, my lord. Your grace is beyond expectation."

Thranuil ignored her inveigling intentionally, "As former Captain of the Guard, I held you to a higher standard than the rest. I expected better of one I have held close." The object of his admonishment had the decency to look abashed, "Were I an Orc, you would have been rid of your head. Were I a dwarf, such an act from one such as yourself would have been awarded a shaving of your hair and likely a _permanently_ lowered rank." He spread his hands to the side in invitation for rebuttal, "Am I not merciful to my people?"

Loki hardly knew this king, but even she cold see the white hot rage evident in his very being.

Tauriel blinked, expression veiled with calm as she inclined her head deferentially, "Yes, my lord." His words had startled her very clearly but she would not show it.

Thranduil shifted his weight to one hip and turned a sidelong glance of disinterest upon the redhead, though it hinted of underlying malice, "Cross me again and I will banish you... Captain of the Guard, or not. My orders are not to be ignored. Do you understand?"

The elleth's breath hitching very slightly, eyes just a little too shiny for there not to be tears threatening arrival, and she swallowed thickly, obviously shaken by his callous address, "I understand perfectly."

Loki applauded her control over her voice. There was a lack of shift in her sturdy posture no matter the war going on inside her. There was so much pride in that tiny frame that had been beaten into a corner, but she continued to stand tall. The honest hurt hiding intermingled with the shiny eyes and stubbornly blank expression was interesting. It…somehow felt like all the times Odin passed judgment upon her without so much as a hint of regret that was always present when he judged Thor's ill thinking.

Her green eyes snapped away and back to the others in the room, particularly the throne. There was no reason to let herself think of unpleasantries in the past when the here and now would be unpleasant enough shortly. Besides, there was no reason to pity or identify with the dear girl when she had only just been ready to remove her eyes with her own hands. It was unwise to forget her anger because it kept her going where ill memories, or worse still, pity, would only depress her.

"If we are clear, you may resume your duties and set about your new assignments." The dismissal was cold and unfeeling, delivered without the slightest shift from his bland expression.

Tauriel turned on her heels, her expression tempered with undeniable resignation as she all but fled with what remained of her dignity. The particular six guards in question followed closely, eager to escape and intent to do so before more punishment followed. The chained Queen cocked her head to pointedly stare in her best scornful expression as they vanished around corners before she quietly settled into a stance of indolence. Loki's guards remained, standing at her sides like statues.

Dread she had been holding off through the encounter settled into her gut when distant eyes land on her. Everyone else deserving discipline had been handed a punishment and she knew only too well that he must do something about her as well.

Her mind drew her back unwillingly to all the most recent times she felt that same sense of fearful foreboding that made her want to crawl out of her skin: when her hand turned blue at a touch rather than freezing; when Odin stripped Thor of his name, power, and place in Asgard; when she felt the power of the Casket fill her and understood the horror falling from Odin's lips that brought to light every nightmare she ever had and stripped her of what she once held as safety; when she faced the menacing and horrific figure she had come to understand was her father; when Thor blundered back into the palace and soundly ruined everything she worked so desperately for; and of course, that moment after she let her fingers slip from the golden handle and looked down into the swirling lights she assumed would be her final moments.

How many more of those moments did the Norns think she could endure without going utterly mad? Laughter nearly bubbled up inside her at the thought but she swiftly schooled her expression, only unable to hold down the corners of a smile as she ducked her chin to hide it. Her sanity? What sanity did she have left in a crazed world? Another bubble of laughter almost had her choking in order to hold it back. Letting fear fall away and allowing her own defense of humor cover up raw nerves was easier than thinking too much over anything close to real. The truth was, she understood why he had to flay her alive and panic would do nothing to change it; understanding, however, gave her control because she could use anything he threw at her; she could twist whatever punishment came to her advantage.

She was good at that.

"Now then…" Thranduil relaxed his arms over the sides of his seat and leaned forward a little over his knees, "What shall I do with _you_? Though not my subject, you are within my walls, thus subject to my laws." His eyes were so unnervingly searching, piercing every shield she erected against it.

She could not let him get to her though, she had to continue to play to her crowd, and she did indeed have a crowd. And if there had ever been anything she did well, it was using any attention she garnered for her own purpose. Perhaps he would see through her, but perhaps not. Playing to a crowd was all about delivery and catering to what they wanted to hear, then dashing enough truth into it to make it real. It was time to shift into the compliant, submissive, unassuming prisoner. They needed to see no threat in her or things would continue to go badly.

"I was provoked to action, my lord." She lifted her eyes level with his to flutter her lashes innocently, "Perhaps it counts for little, but I did wish to abide your rules. I have no quarrel with you still." With his people…obviously.

Those dark brows drew together regretfully, and it struck her that he was earnest, but was playing a part as well, "I hold out a sincere hope that it remains so. Though you were provoked I cannot simply cast my eyes away. I have never allowed a guest of any rank to endanger my kin."

"I was careful to do no lasting harm to your guards or your Captain." She pointed out casually.

The look of apprehension did not lift, "I know, but that offers a hollow comfort to some degree."

There was silence between them for some long minutes. Loki held perfectly still while he stroked his chin thoughtfully. Royal born, no matter the universe, knew exactly how to spin an interesting play for any onlooker. No matter truth or lie, they all knew it had to be delivered with care; they also knew timing and how to use it. She knew perfectly well what he would do, at least partially, but he was intentionally dragging his feet for effect. The debate was mainly for show as the quiet onlookers remained a constant.

"As a precaution… and perhaps a show of good faith as much as a warning against further discord, I would have you submit to wearing the inhibitor on your person." Thranduil was making a decree, politely as it might have been delivered, "Once my people have fashioned it, I would have you wear it as a sign to all that you represent no danger. At which time… you will be allowed to move about the kingdom _with_ _supervision_."

That decree got quite the reaction. All the air seemed to have left the room and it returned together as well. The stoic guards sported wide eyes and slack jaws for the briefest of seconds before composure was regained. Loki herself must have looked stunned because Thranduil seemed smug.

But really? He had shocked her! Punishment was an obvious result, but a present to soften the blow? Allowing her out of her little corner? So long as she seemed safe? He must have known she would never be truly neutralized by an inhibitor so why would he allow her such an olive branch? The things she could do with a little freedom!

"I will require you to wear the inhibitor at all times. Removal of it, even at night, will be seen as violation of our agreement. Though you are a Queen, my word is law here in my kingdom, thus violation of my trust will result in confinement to the dungeons." He looked very much a king, the crown suddenly more dominant upon his head with every word, "As a fellow user of magia, I understand that might seem harsh to you, however, it is necessary as a sign of good faith. The stone is your part, and extending you access to my home is mine." Thranduil was on his feet then, robes in motion, trim hips swaying as he sauntered down the steps to stand before her.

Remarkably, he was giving her quite a lot to work with, knowingly or not.

If it was even possible, which it seemed it should not be, the guards tensed even further, vigilantly leaning closer. Cíldaer and the light-auburn haired lieutenant edged discretely down the steps as quickly as they could without garnering attention. The elves were many things, not always good, but they were fiercely protective of their own.

Loki tipped her chin enough to hold his steady gaze, "It shall be a pact between us? An exchange of our own volition over… aspects we hold close to fortify the alliance between us. I see…" her chin dipped and she intentionally dropped her shoulders to indicate defeat, "Never take it off?"

It was best to play heavily on the inhibitor; use a presumed weakness as a strength. She could work with it, anyway.

Thranduil nodded gravely, as if he honestly felt remorse but he also balanced it with a gravity and hidden finality of a ruler that could crush her were it his desire. There was nothing weak, nor foolish about him, yet he was counting on her to place herself into his hands. His choice had been a calculated one full of potential pitfalls for them both. There was only one way they could both escape this episode mildly unscathed and without reason to duel to the death. In granting her a little freedom he was risking quite a lot; she refused to disappoint. It benefited her to play along and he was banking on her…mostly on the future she could help him strengthen.

"Majesty, I thank you for…" she smiled and let it drip of sadness, "the small dignity you have just extended me." Her voice lowered but not so greatly that the guards could not hear the meek submission, "We both know you could force me and offer me not one glimmer of relief from the pain of binding. Do not think me ungrateful." Drama was so easy, making others believe it was real was the difficult part; fortunately, she was oh so practiced.

The Elvenking seemed to believe her for just a moment, his expression hinting at tenderness, but she saw it the moment he realized she was playing to his multitude. Once he knew, the softness fled his eyes.

Loki bent at the knees, tipping forward at the waist in a low curtsy, "In accordance with our previous alliance, I willfully submit to a binding as a sign of devotion to the friendship of our people. Furthermore, I swear personal loyalty to you, Elvenking, for your grace." It was time, she decided in a split second of utter insanity, to honestly tip the scales entirely, "Upon reuniting with my people, I promise to rally the forces under my direct rule of Asgard, realm of the gods, and Jotunheim, realm of the giants, if ever you call. I owe you a debt of my life, my lord, and it will be repaid any way I am able. Be it in payment of battle or of gold, you shall be granted what you ask."

When she finally raised her head it was to the rare sight of a baffled king, he recovered remarkably however, "A promise, from one ruler to another. I accept, my lady."

They actually all looked baffled and bursting with fresh and intense curiosity. Her words caused quite a stir, nearly silent though it might have been. None in the crowd had to speak for her to read the line of thinking. They very much liked having a queen pledge not only one, but two kingdoms; interesting sounding kingdoms, no less; but they hardly knew if they could trust it. The gold was of mild interest to a few. Things had obviously been established though, they could all see, because the king accepted it. Vows were not taken lightly in a realm such as this. The amount of gossip that would flood the kingdom would be unfathomable and it would keep them very busy; much too busy to worry over a mild incident where a chase and skirmish took place, and hardly enough to take very much notice of the punishments that had been handed down not long before.

The punishment upon the guards would serve to warn, but it would not hold nearly the singular gravity it could have if served alone. It was better to flood the topics of conversation with multiple items of interest to serve as a buffer for any piece better not talked of singularly. She might have gone about it the wrong way but she had played her part. The binding would serve to set them at ease - and she very intentionally made it sound more crippling than she believed it would be - and distract from the second portion of Thranduil's intent; Loki needed them to forget he granted her some freedom. She had no idea why he gifted her with it, but she would take it with pleasure.

What she had done here could well come back to bite her, but she found she did not care. Her anger and hope for a better potential had warred and spiraled her into brashness. No matter the outcome, she could handle the fallout. She had been through worse.

The inhibitor, being tethered to her at all times would be highly unpleasant, but she had found ways around magic bindings before. She was the goddess of chaos, after all, so when did that indicate she could be brought down by a shiny trinket? Chaos could not be controlled for long, it was a fact of the universe. It might also have been why she herself never felt fully in control of her own actions. The wonderful thing about chaos was that it always came out alive, and she would as well.

"Until the stone is ready, you will be returned to your room. We can speak more of the particulars later." The Elvenking announced in his subdued, deep tone of dismissal.

Loki simply nodded, keeping her eyes lowered and body relaxed to prevent the appearance that she could be ready on a moment of notice to attack. Things were progressing nicely as far as she was concerned, so it would be best to keep it that way. Later, she would be interested to know if he agreed, or if he was less than comforted.

She was insane, most likely, but it was all she could do to control her smile as her guards turned her around and lead her back to the medical wing. Perhaps she had been bested, but she felt far from knocked down. She felt, in fact, as if she had simply played a few wild cards and she still had several Aces up her sleeve. Though, she would have to decide what she would say to Thranduil when he inevitably arrived to question her. It was his own fault though, for trusting her. When one handed a situation over to her they should expect her to do the last things they expected.

Regardless of her situation, she found she was immensely hopeful, more than she had been in a while. All the things she had learned over the passage of the day had given her much to think about, much to plan over.

Loki hardly noticed having the chains removed before the guards left her in the solitude of her room. She felt drugged, a little giddy as well, but somehow subdued. Soon, she would be allowed out of this room and she would explore everything she could. They must have had a library, and it would seem an innocent request to spend time there. Things would be so much easier after that! Plotting was much simpler when handed access to the kingdom. There was no way to tell what she would find, but if they had inhibitors, they surely had other toys as well, and she looked forward to finding them.

There was surely powerful magic in this world because Tauriel spoke of inhibitors having been used on greater beings than Loki. That surely indicated the universe of Middle Earth had experienced something to give them such impressions. Were she to find those, find the sources of power, such as the one ever causing her trouble, she might have more than just a way to return to Asgard. Such a power might be able to subdue even the All Father. It surely could be used against Thor! Loki herself was the strongest in magic besides Frigga and Odin in Asgard. Surely what she encountered here would at least offer her the element of surprise. Odin and Thor could not fight what they did not understand. If she understood it though, learned about it, she could control it. Falling into this realm might have been exactly what she needed.

The door opened and she started, realizing only then that she had not moved once since being left alone. How long she stood there, she could not say, her feet were a little numb on the bottom so that indicated a while, but she turned and offered a smile to her visitor.

The Elvenking strode in stiffly, shoulders and spine ramrod straight. His features were unreadable, very much resembling an old stone statue. It was immensely clear that he had much on his mind.

Instead of asking exactly what in the name of all the realms she had been talking about, he made her blink owlishly at him when he produced her staff from behind his back, spinning it deftly in his fingers like it was as familiar a balance and weight as his own. "I must say," he began casually, "this is quite the staff. It differs vastly from those typically held by our wizards. Where did you come by it?"

Loki had never been one to be bested even by a surprise, she only shrugged, intentionally not looking at her weapon no mater how the sight called to her. "It was gifted to me by my mother; a relic from the Vanir kingdom. The writing upon it is ancient...only those of royal blood are capable of using it." That, at least was what Frigga told her; she always assumed she could use it because she was of the All Father and All Mother's blood, but perhaps it was simply royal blood of any race. "It is, however, bound to me so I doubt you would be able to weald it."

"Ah, yours would be the fresher markings then?" His fingers danced delicately over her script and she was mildly surprised that the words glowed faintly in his wake while the original markings were unaffected.

What was she to interpret from that little sign of wonder? "That is correct, my king."

It was too powerful to be used by any without strong, noble blood, and also strong users of magic. Frigga gave it to her when she was younger, never even consulting Odin, and she had greatly encouraged her daughter to bind it to her seidr. It just might explain why the All Father had first seemed shocked his so called child was not only able to use it but join to it. Perhaps his surprise was less centered over her gender or ability and more to do with the weapon accepting...her. Loki was royal, however not an Aesir.

The writing was in ancient script but she had read the spell bindings before. Nothing suggested there would be any resistance to Jotunn users, but now she wondered. Had she overpowered the staff? Was that why her mother had been so pleased?

"Quite valuable then." He mused more to himself, "I expect you want it back?"

Again, Loki was at a slight loss and simply starred in response.

Her heart skipped several beats when the metal, blunt end thumped on the ground and he leaned it against a chair so innocently it hurt to watch. "Then keep it where you had it. I'll not see it outside this room again." That was unmistakable as a decree, "Nor any of your other items. Understood?"

Loki nodded, starring doe eyed at him, but she dared not move for it. Best not to seem too eager, she believed. There might have been some sort of thanks that tumbled clumsily from her lips, but she did not notice. The only way she had expected to get her things back was subterfuge and theft. The idea of being given them back... "What do you require in exchange? Surely there is a price for this kindness."

His intense eyes took her in, the cock of his head contemplative and perhaps curious, but it shifted to one of affronted sensibility, "Keep it away from my people, as I said."

Loki dipped low in a bow. "Thank you, once again. My debt is ever growing."

"I do not require payment for this." He turned for a chair then, marching like an elegant deer through the woods, "But we have much to speak of, as usual."

There, that was the expected part of his visit. Loki swayed her hips playfully as she went to her own seat. She lowered herself, draping one leg over the other with a flourish and coy smile. "What did you have in mind for that?"

Part of her quailed at the prospect of what he might ask, but the moment she opened her mouth she had known, hadn't she. As with most things, she brought it onto herself  
anyway.

* * *

AN:So here is how I decided time was working. With all the raining and stuff in Thor, it was April. No one was shocked by all the storms and if they said what month it was I mused it, so yeah. April at the end somewhere. Anyway, further decided thatLoki feel into Middle Earth just after the beginning of May, which was Nost-na-Lothion. Thus, it is not far into May in the timeline. Tarnin Austa, out the Sumer solstice because it is the longest and shortest day of the year. A very big wood elf thing, Elven midsummer festival starting prior to night. It's cool, if you like the elven culture stuff.

Now, about Tauriel, she was actually dropped two slots. Still a captain, but no longer what would have been like the olden day captain of the royal guard. Still a captain, but a lower one. Also, I figured the in depth patrols would have to go over the whole kingdom, so I decided they would normally be out a straight week, versus the ones that just check around the castle. So the punishment is that they have the be gone from home three weeks, and then still have to go out again when they are up on the turns list. So yucky for them, /

Um, any other questions, you can ask. I think that was all I thought might be confusing.


	10. Solidarity in Seclusion

**~=Eitho nin=~**

~Aid Me~

Solidarity in Seclusion

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

AN: I felt bad for not being in Thranduil's head that much so there is a good bit of his pov in this chapter. Next chapter brings a surprise visitor, so that will me it interesting!

Anyway, I know you guys don't believe me, but I honestly feel terrible for how long it has been taking me to update. I feel bad and I'm sorry, honestly! Real life has been in the way and butchering my muse so I'm sorry... I'm trying not to take two years.

* * *

There were things Loki knew to be true in her life. The main and key of them was that nothing would ever be alright and she would never be safe anywhere; she was the goddess of lies and tricks and chaos, so she could expect nothing different. That was perfectly fine! She thrived on it and would continue to thrive from it; she was Loki of Asgard. She had been born to rule, Odin had not lied when he told her younger self along with a young Thor that simple truth.

While he intended her to rule Jötunheimr, she had done what she did best and surprised everyone, never one to follow the plans of others. That was who she would always be. It brought no warmth or safety but she always reminded herself that she needed no such thing from anyone. Better to refuse the notion than long for what would never be.

She was quite mad, of course, but who in all the realms really was sane? She could deal with being everyone's surprise; she was the spice to life.

The great king sat before her, situated in the chair as he would be in a grand and glorious throne. It distantly and irritatingly impressed her that his hair never truly fell out of place; even when they had been fighting with swords clashing violently even then his hair had been so well behaved. That struck her as exceedingly unfair. His long legs draped one over the other so carefully he could have been posing for a painting. Loki attempted to achieve a similar, though more relaxed version but had no idea how well it came off. Her companion offered no reaction one way or the other to let her judge.

Thor would not have thought him impressive, Odin would have known not to underestimate him, and Frigga would probably enjoy him and secretly be amused by the way he would surely handle her son and husband. Thranduil could run circles around Thor, and at the least he could match Odin, she was sure.

Those icy, metallic eyes glanced over at her staff once more and Loki could not help how her eyes longingly followed to the destination. She would dearly love to go get it and put it away where it was safe and could not be stolen again but she controlled herself. He probably did not even notice.

"This Vanir kingdom, I believe you mentioned they allied themselves with you?" His voice was such a rich, decadent thing.

"Indeed, Vanaheimr often sends their soldiers to us for training. They…" she still thought it best not to mention they had also gone to war against Asgard once upon a time, "are distant relations to the Aesir as well."

His fingers traced sensuously slow circled over the arm of the chair, "I believe you also told me they are most notably known for their ability to see the future through various practices; mirrors; pools; weaving and the like."

"Quite known for it. They are valuable as friends." Loki nodded amiably, curious as to where this line of questioning was intended to lead, "Frigga, my mother is of their blood which is why she is more closely tied to the skill of foresight than any of Asgard."

"Your mother? How interesting…" Thranduil tilted his head to one side thoughtfully, "My people are also sometimes gifted with foresight and use similar methods. A particularly skilled figure is the lady Galadriel, but she lives well away from us." He shifted in his seat, angling himself away from her a little, "Do you also have this skill?"

Loki lifted one shoulder casually, "Unfortunately not. If I perceive anything it is simply more premonition or a sense of foreboding than actual sight." She did not miss how he had not told her if he possessed the gift but she would let it pass.

"The Yggdrasil you told me you watch over… Jötunheimr was mentioned somewhat. They possess ability over ice and storm." Ah, now he was getting around to the point! "I believe you might have even mentioned that they were giants."

"I feel sure I did." She feigned a thoughtful frown, "It is what they are most known for." She had not told him she was one of them, that they were Asgard's enemy, or that it was Útgarðar – their Capital – Thor attacked. Some secrets were well warranted.

He persisted with a near convincing air of confusion, "But you had not mentioned to me that you directly rule that location in addition to Asgard, which you do, if my understanding was correct from earlier?"

Loki drew a long breath through her nose. This was the part of a conversation that she could find herself in great amounts of trouble. There was only so much she could tell him without giving away far more than she cared to. Those not raised around either kingdom would not understand. Equally, he would probably not understand the fact that she tricked and killed her own blood father. Though, if she told him of being abandoned to a cruel and frozen land, he might understand slightly, but she was not exactly intent on revealing her shameful parentage.

"It is… rather complicated, more so than I can easily convey. They are a simple, savage, but complex kingdom plagued by the consequences of wars long past." Speaking of them unbiased was a bit of a challenge but she ensured she remained contemplative in appearance, "Their land was ravaged and they never truly recovered even after millennia passed. Perhaps because of wounded pride, for they too are immortal and remember it too freshly. Jötnar cling to the old ways, probably what they considered to be the strong times. Even now, they are a force to be reckoned with, but they were once far greater and more terrifying."

"That does not tell me how you came to be crowned Queen of two different realms." The Elvenking would not allow her to verbosely dance around to topic.

That would be fine if she knew exactly how she would say it but she had never intended to tell him about Laufey; that and she was already starting to shake after saying their name only once. "Well, after Thor was banished and Odin faded one of the key rulers thought to alter their placement, to usurp Asgard as the high ruler of Yggdrasil. He forced my hand to prevent uprising. Under their ways, if a challenger defeats the current ruler in single combat, the challenger takes the crown. By right, those that rule even in Asgard are the strongest of the kingdom because our magic is passed by blood…admittedly; the purity of that power is also strictly regulated as far as marriage and heirs, which is true for them also. Little is left to chance, but they will allow challengers." Loki licked her lips but found her tongue was also rather dry so she stood slowly and glided to the pitcher of water and took her time pouring a glass before taking a sip.

Though, exactly what sort of magic was in her blood if not Odin or Frigga's? She never exactly contemplated… her blood family's magical ability other than ice. Best not travel that path while under the king's eye.

"Laufey and I matched against each other and that is why I am Queen." Strictly speaking, it was mainly true. She and her…blood father matched wits. The ending may have been due to betrayal and a surprise attack, but to be fair leaving his child to die at enemy hands because she was small was a rather high betrayal too. Additionally, there was an old law about dueling for ruler ship even if Laufey had been ruling so long it mattered very little; no one challenged him and lived. Oh, other than his runt, weakling daughter, which really must have infuriated him in the afterlife. But that technically made her a ruler by blood and by law, so there it was. Not a lie.

"I take it you won. Did he give you further problem after?" He sounded so casual, not knowing he was speaking about her real father and not simply a young pup looking to step up in the world.

The glass was hovering, absently touching her lips without being tipped for another drink – she was absolutely not thinking of the way his red eyes looked up at her from the ground in that last moment. "Those duels are to the death, my lord." She would never know what he had been thinking in that instant; if he had understood what she had done or even who she was in that last second. It had not been fear in his wizened eyes, or even quite anger, but something she could still not label. She would never know.

"I see." He sounded rather disquieted. "Then the answer would be no."

Loki turned to look at him from the side, dropping her arm and dangling the glass in her fingers, "These wizards you spoke of, what are theylike?"

When he looked into her eyes, piercing and searching, diving within her being, he came back with no visible reaction. "They are known by many names Istari, Ithryn… or Maia. It is an ancient race sent to Middle-Earth by the Valar; wise with the mastery of what we often call magia and goetia." Visible reaction or not, he came away knowing how she needed a change of topic – she could not say what that must mean in regards to how she might look to him that he would so easily offer pity. "Those manifest in many forms but are tied to the power within the individual fëa and hröa."

"How many of your people can use it?" She drifted lazily back to her seat and draped herself over it.

* * *

Loki's revelation made him rather sad, mostly because there was a change in her when she spoke of it. The way her fingers trembled when she spoke of the Jötun people had given him pause until her story was complete, then he understood the guilt and razor edged shame he saw hiding carefully in her eyes. He found himself wondering how much she had seen of battle and death. Her skill with weapons indicated it had been considerable just as the number of Orcs found dead by her hand had been considerable. But the hollow, raw sadness at the confession made her seem young and inexperienced.

The taking of life was never easy, but a deeper look into her eyes told him there was much more to the story than she had revealed. Mayhap she had known him before the fight and been betrayed by him as well. The sad, lifeless look was different than the pain he had seen when she told him of her brother, but there was some string of similarity.

The little queen was sad so often, raw and bleeding from within. It made punishing her so much harder even if she was as cunning as a wizard. She was…tragic. It was clear she had lost even more than she had divulged to him already and it left her a heartrending figure to look upon. Perhaps that had been what he saw in her from the start, the reason he had not been able to simply leave her to fate. While she might not have been a mortal there was something very breakable and fragile about her.

It was hard not to notice how she so delicately skirted around Odin's mention as well, just barely touching on him as a needed part of the story, but keeping it far removed. There was a hardened change to her voice and eyes each time his name left her lips. Most often she called him "the Allfather" and never simply father, whereas Frigga was most often "my mother." There was a longing when she said Frigga's name and bitterness to Odin's.

Anger, he knew, was part of grief. He had been very angry with Oropher at one time because he left, sailed to Mandos' hall, had the stupidity of dying and leaving his son to grieve silently. He felt there was another layer to Loki's grief though even if he could not place it. She carried so much ugly, bleeding pain within for one so beautiful and svelte, too much for those thin shoulders. It seemed there was truth to his idea that a crown was a leach upon any ruler's head, and into any royal family, no matter the realm. There was something intrinsically unfair in that.

"All my kin are able but not all are gifted. The higher the blood line, as you also stated, the more power bestowed. Humans cannot use any form, however. It is distinctly of the Eldar or the Maiar. Only humans with blood mixed with ours have any ability to use it."

Loki tilted her head slowly to one side, "Are there many of mixed blood?"

"Many?" The cock of his dark brow unwittingly indicated displeasure and he knew it had been spotted before he could correct it. "No, not many, but there are some. A rare few even hold places of power."

"Do I detect disdain in your tone, my liege?" Her voice was playful and she leaned forward with eyes keen.

He shifted in his seat and cast his eyes off to the side of her, "I have nothing against most, and only a few have warranted my ire."

"I sense an interesting story lurking in those words."

"Not so much interesting as long." He refuted.

"I happen to have time aplenty."

Thranduil opened his mouth, almost ready to actually fall into an explanation, but his mind was a wicked thing. It pulled up many a memory of his distant cousin, the grand and glorious Elrond, too many connections to much darker memories; not all of which, but many were linked to Mithrandir, Oropher, and the esteemed lady Galadriel. The silence stretched and his mouth snapped closed, eyes darkened moderately, "Perhaps another time. I would be more interested to know more about the magic of your world, and the bridge in particular."

Loki seemed to relax a little at the question, as if she expected something much different. "Indeed, and I greatly wish to know more about the Valar you spoke of. Are they, by chance connected to anything called Valhalla?"

"Valhalla?" Thranduil rolled the word over his tongue, "It sounds similar but I have never heard of it. It is, however possible there is a connection. Is Valhalla a person or place?"

"A place. All the most powerful and most glorious gods dwell in it. The Norns, supreme creators and caretakers of all the realms, made it as a place of honor for those that serve them to go if they perish in battle. It is sheltered by great shields as well as beings in service to the Norns, and defenders of Asgard called Valkyries. Additionally, it is home to the golden tree Glasir."

Thranduil could not help leaning forward, interested, elbows propped on his knees, "I see… your Norns are perhaps not unlike our Valar; potentially one in the same. The Valar are creators and caretakers of our world." The Vanir also had trees such as Loki spoke of at one time, so it was said. He supposed the Valkyries might even be some of the Maiar still in service there.

"Perhaps they are one in the same, simply given different names. Valhalla, the Valar, the Norns… too similar not to be somehow connected." Loki mused with a distant look to her eyes, "We might serve the same beings without knowing," she shrugged, eyes returning to his face, "or perhaps not. The Norns are mysterious and illusive. None have seen them in many an age."

The Valar were also a mystery, not seen directly again after Morgoth was defeated. Without going deeper into the function and traits of each, it was difficult to say if they were all one and the same but it eased his mind to believe it was true. It gave him hope. A large part of him did not want to know if the two were not in fact the same. If the same beings ruled both her world and his, then things might have been far less a coincidence and much more orchestration. Additionally, if the two were one, Loki would be bound by the same rules and morals as he was which would be a great comfort. It also meant that the Aesir could be killed the same way the Eldar could and that put them on equal footing once more.

Loki did not seem keen to stay on any topic long, "So, Tauriel has been in your service some time, has she not?"

Come to think of it, she dodged his question about the bridge… but then, perhaps that was because it brought back to light a painful, twisted memory of being thrown from it. He could understand if that were the case. It could be saved for later.

"Yes, and in my care a great deal longer. She and Legolas were inseparable when they were young. Her father and older brother were close friends of mine, her father served as my lieutenant during the war. Her brother perished in Dagorlad after the Black Gates were breached." Speaking the very name of it made his breath catch slightly into a ball in his lungs but he staunchly refused to allow memories to surface of the carnage and persisted without hesitation, "The remainder of her family was killed some time later by one of many Orc parties hunting Isildur."

Ironically, her brother had not died in the slaughter that became the Dead Marshes. No, he lasted through most of the seven years, falling not long before Isildur destroyed the dark lord; so close to surviving, but not close enough. It was better than the slow death that consumed his lieutenant though, so much better. Even after they returned home, dragging the wounded, the injury and poisoned wounds of Talthar had eroded his body horrifically, dragging out his death several long years. He had been a stubborn ellon but even he was forced to give way eventually.

Healers could do nothing against the cursed wounds for they arrived much, much too late – healing arrived too late for so many. At first Thranduil clung to hope but it was soon apparent that even a strong elf could not recover from what had been done to him and everyone had been shocked he did not simply give up his will. Some wished he had if only to end his suffering. Thranduil had been stunned when Tauriel was conceived but he felt sure it had been the tortured ellon's last gift to the world and an attempt to give his wife a reason not to fade after he succumbed to death.

"What was the war over?" The total lack of any sort of understanding was plain enough on her face that it threw him.

"The War of the Last Alliance? Or the Siege of Barad-dûr?" It was possibly the most shocking, though relieving yet worrying thing she could have asked.

The confused way her face twisted was childlike and endearing, "Yes?"

"The War of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men was, at its onset, an assault upon Mordor and Sauron by Men of Gondor combined with forces of Amdír and Oropher; Men and Elves allied against the common enemy."

The absolute lack of any sort of glimmer in her eyes or shift in her expression testified undeniably to her being of no relation to any piece of Middle-Earth, and he had to chuckle, though that threw her expression into a new tilt of confusion.

"I forget at times, Loki, things so fundamental and utterly common knowledge to inhabitants of all Arda fall lost to you." He could only smirk at her and watch the growing annoyance bloom in her eyes.

"I have utterly no way of knowing your history! Were I to look through your library, brows a few books of history, then the story would be different! Without that, you cannot expect me to be familiar with a single name or place fore mentioned." Her arms crossed under her breasts petulantly, "You cannot hold my ignorance against me."

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and propped his cheek on his knuckles, "Sauron was a corrupt Maia with intent to enslave or destroy the entire population of Middle-Earth."

Loki arched a brow, either impressed or repulsed, he could not say which, "Lofty goal, but foolish if he intended to make even one of your people bend a knee for him."

"Indeed. But we lost… many in the battles that followed to remove him from power. The Orcs, Wargs, Nazgul, and other fell creatures were at his command. Tauriel was conceived after the war, but most of her family died during or shortly after it."

Oropher lead them away to battle and most did not return. Even after the war, death still could not be avoided because the massive forces of the fallen darkness would not be banished. The children of those times grew up and were all rather close due to the tragedies. Interestingly, Legolas never forgot that he was the older of the two, not for a second, even if it was not by much; occasionally lording it over the redhead. But now she often behaved as if she was the elder and he followed at her heels like the younger sibling.

"So you took her in because she had nothing… a victim of war." Loki spoke slowly and deliberately, "Your anger at her betrayal makes even more sense then. You raised her, trusted her, gave her a place of honor, and she defied you." She coiled a raven strand around her finger and twirled it, "Also explains why she nearly cried when you scolded her."

He drew in a breath through his nose and let it out, "She is young and believes she knows best. Her spirit is a wild, but beautiful thing; however it must be trained lest she destroy herself and those that follow her." His equally impetuous son, for example, but he did not say that aloud.

"Were you ever willful as a child?"

Thranduil's eyes snapped and fixed to hers, caught fully off guard by the question. "No… I was always more reserved than she has ever dreamed to be. And I worshiped the very ground my father stepped upon, never dreaming for a moment my parents would not know exactly what was best for I knew them to be wise." He replied so honestly it startled him, "But also… yes. There was a time I too believed the world was simple and dangers could not touch the brave and pure of heart. Once I believed shadows could be chased away by candlelight." He could not help the way his fingers itched to cover the left side of his face, his first hard lesson to the contrary.

"But then you learned monsters do not only hide in dark corners?" There was a knowing sadness to her eyes as she observed him, but it was suddenly gone as she leaned in conspiratorially, "Though, I must confess, I was more than slightly wild. I gained the name 'trickster' rightly, for I was a grand terror in the halls of the palace, casting spells for my own amusement – causing snakes to swarm the women's garden party I was forced to attend, for example."

In all honesty, he appreciated her so deeply in that moment, struck so strongly he could only laugh in envisioning the obvious chaos that must have been a result amongst grand ladies at the arrival of slithering things.

"Or," she continued gleefully, "when Thor and I lured the goats to Odin's diplomatic banquet. The lady Freja never forgave either of us after one of the goats consumed part of her dress. To date, Odin still uses it as something of a parable of doom." She stopped suddenly, the smile freezing on her lips once she realized what she had said, but she shook it away, "The General also never forgave me for turning his best sword into a long feather when I wanted to get out of training."

Genuine laughter rolled from the Elvenking's throat a moment more and the smile could not be fully forced away, "I have such an urge to take you to Imladris or Lothlórien now."

"You would unleash me on an unsuspecting people?" Her grin was playful and coy.

"Oh, most definitely, were I to be treated to such a show!" He could do nothing against the giddy feelings when he envisioned Elrond or Galadriel's expression if there was a sudden infestation of frogs to be had.

"Say the word and your least loved visitors will find their wine turned to vinegar or perhaps sour milk at a sip…" she waved one hand casually, "and of course normal once again when they attempt to prove it."

It was a very near thing, but he held in a rather undignified giggle, converting it to a low hum, "I may never before have met a more brilliant creature than the one seated before me!"

"I do what I can, my lord." She answered dutifully.

"You and Legolas…" He let his words fall away unfinished.

Legolas would actually love Loki if he gave her half a chance, instigating and coordinating pranks like those mentioned and more. Were he to take her to Imladris he felt certain Elladan and Elrohir would take her and sow havoc the likes of which had never been seen, much to their father's great horror.

He sobered a little when he realized, if she really could do such a trick as switching the wine, how very dangerous she could be. That would be thinking too far ahead though, giving in to fear of things she had not done. The inhibitor was necessary even if it did punish her for her potential and crimes she had not actually committed.

When her chin lifted he knew she had seen the shift in his mood even if she did not know its cause, but she guessed, "If Tauriel is leaving, when might your son be returning?"

"The patrol was not a distanced one, merely set around the grounds rather than around the entirety of the woodland perimeter. He joined it late, but even so, he will be returning with them tomorrow in the later part of the day."

"So you will need to tell him of the events at that time. Informing him of Tauriel's punishment will be less than pleasant, I suppose."

"I will have no need to tell him for he will know every detail the moment he strays near the gates. News is ever swift to travel." He mused dolefully. "But he will no doubt wish to speak over it."

Loki smirked and nodded, "Ah, yes, that is the way of it. I suppose he will be displeased but he is level headed."

Thranduil hummed noncommittally, "I suppose."

His son would not be pleased at being kept on such a different rotation as Tauriel but there would be little he could do to change that. It was best to keep them apart for a time, he believed. Tempers needed time to cool.

"But it might be best if we continue this tomorrow. You should probably try to rest after the day you have had." Thranduil offered mildly, looking up passively.

"With all your people have planned for me, I am sure you are right." Her eyes were half lidded, staring through her dark lashes, tone cagy, "When will my new accessory be ready, out of curiosity?"

"I am not certain, but I would not suppose it will take them long." He offered rather quietly.

She dipped her head in a nod, "No doubt. Your people are ever efficient, I believe. I look forward to what they come up with."

"Does it concern you?" He folded his finger together, watching her more keenly now than he had been. "You made a show of fearing it, but you know too much about inhibitors not to have encountered them more than once." They locked eyes at last, "You also can see magical disturbances, I gathered, considering you mentioned what you had seen it do to my barriers"

Loki snickered, "Ah, I knew that statement would come back to haunt me… You notice far too much but yes, I can see it, or sense it. I am sure you can as well, as powerful as you are. As far as royal lines follow, the more powerful the user, the stronger the magical sense."

Thranduil leaned forward, elbow propped on his knees, "Are you concerned over it or does it bother you?"

She stared at him a moment, visibly trying to work out an answer, "I have worn magical inhibitors before. It is not utterly foreign to me. I could not say that wearing one has ever been pleasant but it is tolerable." She smiled once again, oddly shy seeming, "I suppose I was intentionally being dramatic for those watching, but I saw no harm in that."

A slight smile edged the corners of his mouth. "I expect there was no harm in it, no. You know how to placate a crowd seeking reprisal."

"Oh, yes. There was a good deal of that to be done with the ladies of that particular garden party, for example. I'm used to playing that part and assisting my punisher. It is always best to… adapt and take on the situational appropriate attitude for the environment when under scrutiny."

He arched a brow and cocked his head to one side, "Is that what you are doing now? Adjusting your attitude according to what you think I desire to see?"

Her glittering eyes lost their humor once more and she stood, taking hold of a blanket the coil around herself like a snakes skin, covering herself from shoulder to toe, tucked safely within, "Every person responds differently to each person they are with. People draw free different aspects of oneself, parts they would hide from others. I indeed respond differently to you than I would your staff because I sense different things in you. We both are rulers of one place or other, and that lends understanding and kinship not possible with a subject."

She cast him a coy but still sad smile over her shoulder, "In my world, some things are invisible to people who have never seen death, or others those who have never loved, or those who have maintained innocence of youth. They cannot comprehend those invisible creatures or items because they have never experienced what is required. You cannot speak to them about things they cannot understand, now can you?"

"I suppose that is true." He watched her closely, desperately trying to read each tiny shift of her eyes as the emotions passed behind.

"No one is ever fully themselves with any one person, they are simply a portion. The more you know them, the more sides you show."

Thranduil found he could not argue against her words. It was true and they both knew it. That had been her way of letting him know she was well aware of his shortcomings in the same area. Neither of them were particularly forthcoming with anyone, nor were they ever truly themselves. None held that great a trust to him, not enough to allow them to see everything, at least none living still. It awakened the sensation of isolation he had felt for so many centuries. It was a bit sad to look within her eyes and see the same debilitating seclusion.

* * *

Galion was waiting in the hallway like a cat ready to spring, though he did not say a word as he fell into step at the Elvenking's side. The candles flickered and caught in the auburn tint of the ellon's hair, letting Thranduil know he was there even before he would have seen the shadow of his stance; the hair color was a common trait to the people here, but that particular shade was still distinct.

No one had seen him leave Loki's room, though he did not answer to them for it, so it would not have mattered, but knowing that was probably not why the ellon had run over was a comfort. Even so, leaving her had renewed his darkened mood somewhat and having someone hiding in wait, even Galion, annoyed him instantly.

The cold, still angry eyes did absolutely nothing to cow Galion and nothing to unwind all those tightly strung muscles. Galion was so purposeful, deceptively young looking features betraying intensity and that was not something he had desire to deal with at present. It took a bit of effort not to sigh at the sight, though that would have been a sign of defeat and thus the Elvenking stubbornly refrained. The clench of the ellon's jaw and furrow of his brow was nothing to most, even considering how soft his features were, but he had served Oropher and then shifted his services as the king's helper to Thranduil, so the stern king knew him as well as he might know a blood relation.

He served the family well, and typically without complaint – unless decree was made that he happened to find going against his sensibilities – and he was as near to a friend as the Elvenking allowed himself. Valar knew they had been through enough together; some of those particulars being the reason both of them enjoyed the strong wine a little too well. Numb was a better state than sullen and who could fault either of them for sipping a bit when their spirits were low? Those of their kin that did nothing to uphold their spirits by whatever means possible faded away or sailed on. Neither ellon were inclined to ascribe to those paths so they did what they must to carry on and lead.

"You are too soft with her." Galion spoke without even a slight preamble, which was often his way when none were around to hear the lack of propriety.

"Oh?" His dark brows furrowed in surprise but then he shrugged noncommittally, "Perhaps... but she has been my ward long enough that some part of me forgets she is not my blood. If I am too lenient it is the unfortunate aftermath of sentimentality, which is why I rarely touch such foolishness. However, I must remind you that you were the one to suggest that I take her in, whining at me about this and that, insinuating having one his age would be good for Legolas..." Thranduil turned an accusatory eye at that, "For which I have cursed you as a liar many a day when I was forced to drag them from disaster with one under each arm."

What more could he have done to her? It seemed enough to him, actually. Granted, he could have ordered her hair shortened as a visual punishment of shame, but he honestly had not been able to force such a thing from his lips. There was shame enough hanging over her head without going so far.

There was no less accusation in the look shot back and the defiant upturn of chin, such as he would punish in any but Galion, "I was not strictly speaking of Tauriel."

At that Thranduil's feet stopped him cold, forcing Galion to nearly topple in an attempt to pull back his own stride but he might have wished he had kept walking when he looked into the furious eyes of his king, "No? What then were you speaking of? Surely you will enlighten me as to my folly for I cannot think of any but my mutinous ward you might find to bring up." Galion shrank just slightly at the biting chill of tone wafting like fog about his person, "The soldiers with her? Oh, but I remember punishing them." His head cocked to one side in a mockery of contemplation, "While I am aware that my own son has taken a particular bent toward questioning my every word and decree, I was not aware that I had any further combatants to allocate punishment to at present. Who might you suggest I add to the list?"

Galion did not miss the undertone in those words nor did he fail to hear the threat, he persisted anyway, "You might have been a little harsher with our visitor. She is unknown to us and it might to some be seen as unwise to allow her quite the freedom she has now. Queen or not, she is yet to be determined as friend or foe, which leads one to-"

The Elvenking found himself stepping closer, glaring down his nose without subtlety, using the fact that the other ellon was shorter to full advantage, "Oh, my dear Galion, what might I do without you to inform me... for I am clearly ignorant!"

The ellon's lips thinned and shoulders stiffened, "I would not dream of telling you what you should or should not do, I only worry."

Thranduil pulled back and glided away in his typical regal, uninterested, and utterly indifferent manner at that, "You needn't." He was saying that with some frequency of late.

Everyone in Arda seemed to feel they had a say in how he ran his kingdom. And he was becoming increasingly irritated with it. They did not question him when he moved them north to Emyn Duir to escape the encroaching darkness, nor when he moved them even farther north to escape Sauron's influence, they simply listened. What had gone wrong since their unquestioning loyalty? They did not question it at all when he brought them to an older, smaller palace and proceeded to make it stronger, expanding it into the safety of an under ground and protected domain of rock and root. He took something old and neglected and made it better than it had ever been, built it anew, though parts he kept the same out of sentiment.

Thranduil wasted no time and marched himself into his personal rooms where he did not slam the door, it only sounded like it closed more forcefully than normal. He prowled into his quarters, pouring himself a bit of wine to calm his nerves before he threw himself into his favorite chair, legs draped over the arm. He kicked and swayed both legs absently to alleviate the pent up energy brought about by stress.

Oropher and the group of Sindar and Silvan elves had been driven from Amon Lance – now most unfortunately Dol Guldur where Sauron took up residence back in his time – and Thranduil was quite tired of being driven from his homes. Vacating Amon Lance had not gone especially well and he would not see it happen to a dwelling built with his own power and the power of his people. That was, though none seemed to see it, why he needed Loki.

Where were they to go if they were forced from yet another home? Well, he would not allow such a dilemma to take place and that was simply that. Loki and her grand populous of subjects could help him secure that intent, he really believed she could.

Cíldaer was suddenly tapping at the side door and it was all he could do to hold in a hiss of irritation as the door opened a crack, bringing the ellon into view as he hovered in the entrance. "My lord? I heard you come in and I thought I should report—"

"Tomorrow. I am in no mood to hear it unless it is urgent." Thranduil cut across coolly, leaving frost even on his own tongue.

"Of course, majesty." The lithe little creature ducked back out and closed the door silently.

* * *

AN: Little one on one between them was kind of fun. I enjoy how they banter. I'm so in love with them! When they talk I'm not really in control anymore, they just talk and I write...

I did mess with ages in this because most are never even exactly talked about so you just guess, but whatever. I looked it all up but never found a clear answer on how old Legolas or Tauriel are, there are guesses but I just made choices on my own.


	11. Company

_~=Eitho nin=~_

~Aid Me~

_Company_

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

AN: A tiny father-son moment that fizzles, but it's kinda there. Visitor revealed! And Legolas is back! Oh, and the inhibitor is also here. Also multiple pov switches.

* * *

The morning air was still hanging stubbornly onto the frigid bite so he tugged one of his warmer robes over his shoulders, adjusting it to hang in his customary fashion. His cool eyes drilled emotionless into his reflection, willing it all away. In no way did he feel ready to face a new day but he would pretend his desire to hide in his room was the lingering sluggishness of his exhausted mind. What he needed was a few weeks of relaxation and freedom from worry to recharge his spirit; so unfortunate the rest of the world did not agree!

The brush in his fingers slipped from his grasp and onto the smooth wood of his dressing table as he paused to listen to the world outside, specifically the world just around the castle gates.

Judging by the sudden and drastic rise of volume humming in the distance, Legolas' patrol had returned-early. His spirit feel a little further with that development. There was only one reason they would be back this early; the parties had met. There was always that potential if the changing groups were in the right places at the right times, he had simply hoped it would not be so. The designated scouts always exchanged information, and he supposed it would also have been his usual misfortune if the troop had also designated Legolas for that too, ensuring he spoke directly with Tauriel and her men. Nothing would surprise him in that regard.

Thranduil swept his robes to one side with a flourish and strolled out his doors with haughty annoyance already ruminating. The expression he put on was his most common disinterest mixed with ready disapproval. If Girion appeared again he would earn himself a visit to the dungeon for the day.

Cíldaer rushed from the hallway the instant the doors were flung wide like some eager pet greeting a master. Papers were already in his hands, almost vibrating with the ellon's energy. "My lord, you have arrived! " It was a surreptitious greeting, spoken nearly as one word, "I shall humbly offer you report now of-"

"Later. I must speak with my son post hast. "

Even without turning his head to look, he could positively see those lips forming a 'but' that nerve actually gained voice, replaced grudgingly with; "Yes, my lord. "

The young thing had never been very assertive, too quiet in personality for anything abrasive, but he was a gentle soul; rare to find in one that had witnessed their wars. He might have felt sorry for brushing him side some other time, but not now, not as he descended the main steps toward the outer gates and watched his child's purposeful steps leading them to an intersection. Legolas dipped his head in a chased respectful bow and a mildly curt, "Adar."

"I trust the patrol went well." The Elvenking muttered without much interest.

"It did." Was the extent of the response, the ellon's features hard and closed, lips thin.

His gut made a very un-kingly flip that reminded him of the sense of apprehension he had the first time he spoke in a royal gathering. It was a fact that now might not be the best moment to speak to him of the subjects he intended previously but it was still necessary, "I have need to speak with you."

"I already know." He replied shortly, "I spoke with Tauriel on the way back here."

Thranduil could not help the way his fingers twitched into fists at his sides, his suspicion confirmed to his displeasure. "What did she tell you?" To force the conversation away from prying eyes, he turned on his heels and set a brisk pace.

Legolas fell into step with him seamlessly, the stiffness easing from his form as he did, "She said she disgraced her place in your service and broke your trust. Dishonor is upon her for her childish choice and she endeavors to earn your favor once again." He shrugged, seeming suddenly very young once again, like he had been when coming to his father with problems as a youngling,"But she was not specific in her self-proclaimed misdeeds. I know more from the other guards than I was given from her company in the woods." His eyes finally connected with Thranduil's in the most pleading manor, "Is it true? That you relieved her of her place?"

For a moment, his feet halted as he looked on at his child, wishing for an instant he could tell him a pleasant lie to sooth that troubled expression, "It is true. She went against direct instruction and acted behind my back, bringing her company against orders."

There was no need to say more, the ellon knew the story, "She meant well, I know she did! She did not mean to go against you, truly, and I know she is remorseful." The unusual hints of pleading had not dared make appearance in his voice since he was much smaller but it was unmistakable in the hushed depth in his deep voice, " She was wrong, I know, but..."

Long, slender fingers waved dismissively, bringing an end to hearing pleas for her case, "I know but for the danger she placed her people in and for her blatant disobedience, I had no choice. The punishment is not forever, be at peace."

The more familiar, petulant frown took the place of worry, "I also heard you replaced her post with Cíldaer? But he is not fit for the position!" The fire had been flamed back to life suddenly, "Why did you appoint him? He is more a record keeper than warrior, Adar."

"Do not so easily place value or lack of it on another. You must allow room to grow in those that follow you or they will never reach their potential." Thranduil lowered his tone to indicate he would abide no more argument on the matter. "That was not what I wished to speak about, however."

It was painfully obvious that Legolas was in no way ready to let the conversation fall but the glare turned to a curious frown, seeming to finally notice where his father was leading him now that they reached the private sectors. "What is it? Has there been trouble?"

"When is there anything but trouble to contend?" His fingers skated along the smooth stone as he turned the corner.

"Something must have happened to stir you. It is not often you consult me." There was underlying resentment in those words but neither of them explored it.

The rich robes lapped over the steps as the Elvenking took his son into the tower, maps still as he had left them when he rushed away during the chaos. "There have been whispers, stirring unrest." His metallic eyes drifted to the windows again to avoid looking at those worried round eyes, "birds encroach upon the Desolation and there is talk among the dwarven nations. Thorin is continually on the move, I have heard."

"Smaug? You believe he could move again?" The words were a low growl.

"You know the prophecy but it is impossible to know exactly what it means or what timeframe the events will take. Each event could be years apart or in direct succession." He drew in a breath and closed his eyes, "There are progressively more creatures we must expel from our borders..."

"We will keep them at bay. Smaug has no reason to come here." His broad shoulders set stubbornly, chest jutting out like a young buck with newly grown horns, "I shall personally go and confront these stories and determine their validity."

"No, you shall remain here where I can be sure of your safety." Thranduil lacked force to his voice, allowing it instead to be a weighted whisper.

"I am not an elfling, Adar!" The youthful surety was strong in his voice as well as the indignation, "I can protect myself. I do not need you by my side for every conflict!" The ending words held hidden venom that served so well as a knife to a father's heart.

The breath hitched and swirled unwillingly in his lungs, "I believed the same at Doriath, believed I needed no help from my father, but I learned young that one cannot prepare for every eventuality." Said eventuality leaving his face forever changed before he was even formally considered an adult; he ignored the sharp intake of breath from Legolas at the mention of such a tender topic, "Dark forces are feared with good reason and I will not surrender my people nor my child to its mercy freely. My father left me to them in his passing but I would keep them from you as long as I am able... do not hold that against me so quickly." his fingers found his temples and worried the flesh.

Tentative feet brought Legolas closer and a light touch rested on Thranduil's shoulder, "What are you saying? What do you wish of me?"

"Your understanding." He allowed his hand to fall over his son's a little awkwardly at his own shoulder, "My actions are for a purpose and I implore you to trust my words as I am your father and your king." He had yet to open his eyes but he could not find the motivation to do so. "Can you not follow my decrees accordingly? I do nothing without purpose and I need your support, not your derision. There is much you do not know about our circumstance, Legolas."

"Tell me?" Legolas whispered.

Heavy shoes adorned with metal clicked against stone farther down the staircase. Both heard it but Thranduil was the one to react, pulling away from the gentle touch and dropping his arms to his sides, moving intentionally to the window. Legolas crossed his arms and turned to watch the guards approach, the softness gone from his eyes. The conversation had ended for the moment. Whatever headway they had been making slipped away in the face of an audience neither of them wished to entertain.

"My lord, the inhibitor has been placed in a setting and is ready for you." The first elf to reach the top announced.

Thranduil nodded, striding after the retreating, noisy figures without so much as a glance at his child, he knew what he would see. The conversation would need revisiting but he was unsure when he would have the fortitude to try again when the first attempt had left him feeling so drained. It was likely best they had been broken apart anyway for his words had been too honest and too forthcoming; he could not say how much he might have divulged if it continued as it was. Probably too much and more than he originally intended, he thought.

Legolas watched him go, electing to remain where he was, doubtlessly intent on studying anything he could find on the scattered pages littering the desk space. The warmth they shared was quickly cooling back to normal, painful in some way, but a relief in others. There was a necessity to their distance. They had been a close family once, but things had changed with time and events and now they did not know how to be close. Being close and vulnerable with each other hurt too deeply.

* * *

When the door opened suddenly, Loki was ready for it and had been expecting it; dreading it actually. The elves probably worked all through the night on their little project. That too had been expected; she would wager it was put into motion seconds after the words left the king's limps in the throne room and before she had been returned the her rooms; they might have started even before that if a red haired captain spoke to them over potentials.

Moreover, they had reason to work quickly. It was twofold; restrain the unwanted guest and appease an irritated king to avoid being demoted. It was past the usual lunch hour anyway and when no food or drink was brought, she expected something was bound to be brewing.

The Aesir had dressed herself well, making sure every little detail was perfect. The charms she placed on her hair and skin were ones that would last until she could apply them again when her magic was returned. She would not let them make her neglect her appearance, restriction or not. She had a reputation to uphold and she still looked good, menacing, but good.

Her eyes were flint as she watched three guards march into the room with stiff posture and averted eyes. The surprise was more in the fourth member of the party, dressed in the normal finery and looking very bored. The Elvenking also looked tired and a little lifeless behind the eyes. It would seem his morning had not been a peaceful one.

Interestingly, the barrier swayed in response to the inhibitor but not to the degree it had before. The reaction was incredibly mild and she supposed the Elvenking had done something to cause that. The best way would have been to infuse his own magic or some from the palace for it to recognize and bond with, or both. She guessed that would be the reason for his tiredness.

She softened her stance for his benefit, teasing a smile onto her unwilling lips, "What an honor, being graced with so many handsome visitors before the sun has even begun to set."

Only one of the guards seemed to catch the potential double meaning in her playful words and he actually gained color in his cheeks even if his expression hardly flinched. He looked as if he were desperate to deny the potential to the king, vehemently assure him none of the guards visited her on any but sanctioned occasions, but held his tongue. The Elvenking on the other hand did not even seem to have noticed. He had, of course, but he was not letting on in the slightest.

"As you might have guessed, my people have been hard at work. Creating this in stunning swiftness." Strong, slender fingers lifted a shining item into view, "I have embodied it with particular magic to ensure it behaves according to the current surroundings...which is to say, recognition of this realm and the magical properties within."

Loki did not lower her eyes to the disdainful item, determined not to show interest, "How long did that take you?" Mental congratulations filled her mind over being right once again.

"Long enough." He was not particularly in a chatty mood, every inch a hard edged king.

"Well then, do proceed, my lord."

Loki glanced at what appeared to be a necklace, though it looked more like a very thick and glorified collar if she was honest. Black stone set in intricately woven silver, and oddly what seemed like small bits of petrified vines not unlike some of the stone work of the passages. It was well made and pretty enough; strong while appearing delicate; very much a status piece if not for its true purpose. She might have liked it if she did not know she would be wearing it indefinitely.

She sighed dramatically and gave them all a dull look, "And this you expect me to sleep in? It will puncture my neck during the night." Her arms crossed petulantly, "could you not have made it a bracelet, something I could comfortably endure for all hours of the day and night?"

"It is not sharp." Thranduil persisted calmly.

"Then you sleep in it for a night or two." She cocked a hip and rested a fist there, not exactly sure why she had decided to be antagonizing; she tended to pull attitude in these situations even if she was not always sure why.

All eyes took a quick glance at her hip and one corner of her mind drew a little mark in the sand for victory. Nevermind that Thranduil looked extremely frustrated with her, she still swayed his attention. Though he most likely considered her behavior childish she simply did not care.

"We will consider changing its form later." He locked eyes with her, warning in their depths, "but for now, come forward."

She did not have a desire to follow any such command. Obedience had never been a strong trait in her repertoire. Running would have been much more appealing. Being faced with punishment was never pleasant.

One of the strongest looking guards took the silvery menace from the Elvenking and held it aloft expectantly. With a glare, she stepped forward obediently and stood within reach. Her stomach was already forming knots so she averted her eyes, fixing them to the wall. She felt dizzy already but she had no idea if it was from stress or the nearness of the necklace. It was probably a mix of the two but her temples were starting to throb a little staccato in her skull and that did not bode well for the rest of the day.

Those strong hands curled around her neck even though he was nearly standing on tiptoe to stay as far away as possible. It took a good deal of willpower to leave her arms at her sides rather than lash out at him and claw at his pretty little eleven face. She grit her teeth and held in the desire to at least threaten his life and limb but she badly wanted to do something to make him suffer. He was decidedly careful not to touch her and that helped just a little. The clasp clicked into place with a snap and he scurried backward.

Loki choked when a hard pike of lightning shot up her spine and ricochet inside her head.

Now she really did feel ill, her stomach roiling instantly, strong enough to make her clamp a hand over her much in an attempt to prevent backlash. The inside of her skull felt like it swelled, pounding behind her eyes, ears, temples, and she swore she could feel something rupture.

Needless stabbed roughly into her neck, penetrating skin and acid leaking into her blood. She felt herself twitch at the feeling and she clutched for any shed of control she could find in hopes she would not fall shamelessly into ruin before them. Her throat closed around an animal cry, gagging her and keeping breath from her lungs. Retreat was all she could think of, perhaps ducking behind a curtain. Her body was numb and tingly all at once, energy zapped from her as if some switch had been flipped. She badly needed to sit down, or perhaps lie down. There was a curtain around her bed she could close if she could only get to it. She knew she would be fine if only she could rest her shaking limbs, she just needed to lie down, that was all.

Her feet clumsily stumbled backward in the direction she remembered a bed being, but she was too sluggish and suddenly much too tired. The black engulfed her vision do rapidly she had no time to fight it off, helpless in its current of dark waves. It was much more forceful than she expected, and painful.

* * *

Loki was visibly shaken by the inhibitor, her color draining to an ashen hue in seconds. There was an instant fragile look to her as she swayed and struggled. He had not expected such a strong response; she might have been faking the severity but he did not think she could fake that wounded, frightened sound she made.

He might have been moving closer before he realized she was soon to be unconscious but he was unsure. Either way, Thranduil noted instantly by the lack of response that the guards with him did not intend to catch her. He was there in a long stride, her limp and shockingly frail body draped in his arms; her legs reflexively struggled in disjointed effort to keep her upright but they might as well have been liquid for all the good they did her. Her head rested against his chest but it migrated slowly to the side, too heavy for her to hold up. It did not take long for her struggling to cease and she was simply slack in his grip, much like the first time he had seen her unconscious.

Her skin was a shocking, icy touch against his own, nearly enough to make him shiver outright. That have him cause to ponder whether she was always so cold naturally or if it was a reaction. She seemed partial to curling blankets around herself. Thinking back he recalled that her touch was never what could be considered warm but he never though much over it previously. Perhaps her world was greatly warmer than their own. A quick mental note was tucked back to speak with one of the servants to ensure she was given warmer attire.

Ignoring the distressed squawking from the overprotective hens, he scooped her up into his arms and drifted toward the bed. He took great care not to jostle her as he nestled her head onto the pillows , crooking her legs at the knee to remove the shoes before he slid her feet beneath the blankets, covering her with several blankets to chase away the chill. The shoes remained in his hand as he worried the sides between his fingertips. It was uncomfortable seeing her this way and he could not condemn her to the humiliation of others seeing her so vulnerable; shielding her with his body and blankets was sadly the best he could do.

"Instruct one of the kitchen staff to report here and then return to your normal posts." Thranduil did not bother to turn around, eyes fixed to her porcelain face and sunken, closed eyes.

"You do not wish any of us to stay?"

"No, I have no need for a guard at present." Thranduil was intentionally blasé.

Displeasure radiated from the doorway but they slowly, hesitantly filed out and closed the door behind them, leaving him free to relax. He set the slippers at the foot of her bed before casting a pleading look upward to wordlessly plead for some kind of guidance for the future but no brilliant plan was immediately forthcoming.

Pulling one of the chairs to the bedside, he gingerly sank into it and situated himself into something that would seem poised but would still be comfortable; their would be someone coming up so be could not strictly loll about.

Both hands scrubbed at his face, working his eyes, and smoothing his brows. Touching her seemed to have cooled his hands as well, making them feel bloodless; he flexed his fingers a few times and rubbed them together to remedy it.

She was not in particularly good shape and he worried she might not have been for some time. Perhaps the treatment she had been getting from his kingdom had not been doing her many favors. While she had said nothing he did not find it shocking; he suspected she would never tip her hand and make real and necessary requests thinking it would give them something to use against her.

His fingers took hold of her wrist and found out much too thin. Muscle was one thing, elves were known to be lean and slim but it was muscle, not simply bond beneath their skin. Looking closely at her now was to see a vulnerable, young, injured creature in desperate need of some care far more tender than she had been receiving. She was strong but she was also more frail than he previously believed.

Was he making a grave mistake to hang so much planning and hopes upon thin, young shoulders? Once she said she believes herself a little younger than he was, it had been a joke, poking fun at his stoic nature, but he thought it was indeed true. She was young even if she was a queen. A similar circumstance to his own when he was forced to take over the position. Not strictly the same but he could identify with the situation.

Was it right to expect so much of her when he was reluctant to involve his own child? The circumstance was different, he understood that; she was a ruler and she was a fighter; she also had reason to fight on his side to maintain her place in his castle. The armies she could provide would be immensely useful but he knew in his heart of hearts that he would use her power even if she had nothing but her considerable power to offer. He would let her risk her life along side himself and a people not her own.

His eyes drifted away from her still form to fix on the draperies. It was cruel of him but he learned to use what was at his disposal to keep his kingdom alive. One life...could not be given more value than thousands. He too was expendable and he would fall to battle if needed and he would not hesitate.

Being king did not mean he hid behind his troops. He was a warrior and he would battle any beast to keep his kin alive. The king was an important piece and the proverbial game could be lost if the king was killed, but it did not mean his life held the ultimate value, infect it often seemed to hold the least at times.

Loki understood the principle, no doubt. Her kingdom had been stolen from her grasp and she would surely do anything to rescue it, similar to what he would do to keep his kingdom from falling. The crown was a cold, hateful being that dehumanized everything and turned gentle hearts to stone. Thranduil hated the crown. He loved his people however.

Thoughts of doubt easily cycled into his mind when he was tired. The day had been emotionally jarring and then taxing on his strength and powers to weave and curl charms and the woodland magic, his included, into the item and setting. Some of the work had been done, enchantment twinned into the substance of each twist and chain link, but some things had to be done by the king. He had been hard at work training it until moments before they stepped before Loki's door.

It was when he was tired that he began to wonder if he ever knew what the right thing to do might be or if every step he took was bringing destruction on those he tried to protect. He wished he knew so much more and could be the leader the Valar wished but how could he know.

When an ellon from the kitchens stepped into the room he easily slipped into a cooler facade, giving the youngling a list of things to bring. He was good at giving orders and taking charge, he watched his father enough too grasp the concept when he was young. Simple tasks were easy to direct. It was making decisions that could cost lives, the ones to alter lives forever that made him feel inadequate as a ruler. A nagging voice in the depth of his mind always insisted his father would have known better, or worse, Eldrond would have chosen a better path, or Galadriel would have seen the signs with more accuracy. He had to be better than that though and could never outwardly show hesitation.

Inevitably, even after the trays were brought and he set about his brewing and adjustments, his eyes found her sleeping form. Though a few had walked in and out of the room, she had never blinked nor moved at all. She was eerily like a corps set out for viewing and he hoped it was not telling of the future. If she perished because of any choice he made...he did not wish to dwell on that thought.

* * *

Green eyes blinked open, bleary vision instantly irking her the way it always did when she had been drinking too long with Thor. She propped herself on her elbows, sensing another person near and was not surprised; Frigga was forever worrying over things like that and was swift to give multiple speeches when her brood was too weak to fight.

A few more blinks had her pressed wide eyes against the headboard, but then it all came back unpleasantly. Loki collected herself swiftly, tryingdesperately to cover up the laps of decorum. She busied her hands with smoothing blankets into neat, wrinkle free linens to cover her involuntary foolishness.

His eyes lifted from the book in his hands but she knew he had been watching all the while; he was studiously letting her retain her dignity which she found to be a nice gesture. His sculpted features were calm as a summer morning and just as warm when he met her eyes. Every article of clothing was hung perfectly, like an artist's work in living form; he was, as always, offensively perfect when Loki knew only too well that even the charms could not save her from looking deplorably wretched. They did not always work if the subject was not awake either.

"Interesting read?" Was the first thing out her mouth her voice sounded thin as glass.

He snapped it shut abruptly without bothering to mark his place, "Moderately."

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm the sensation of crawling in her own skin, the muscles in her legs felt like they were twitching. The more she became aware of her self, crawling from the unnatural hold of induced sleep, the more uncomfortable she became.

Loki could not use magic now, did not dare try to even touch it. It was still there, a force beneath her skin, moving and alive, but caged. The bars were real and cut her off from something a natural as breath and all she felt was wrong, sick, and violated. They had ripped away a piece of her and hate roiled in her chest for a moment before she was too tired to sustain it.

When she blinked her eyes she found it hard to open them again. Things felt harder, even normal things. Thinking was more difficult, like the pull of sleep had hold of her and refused to release; she could have slept again regardless of her having just been unconscious.

Now she felt the magic more keenly, saw it in a more tangible sense, but it was cruel; sensing it was like looking upon a cool and clear pool without being able to drink from it or touch it. She watched his magic swirl around him like wisps of colored smoke, noting how it changed color and motion with what she assumed was his mood. Her own magic was in tight clumps and bands, useless.

Nothing felt right. Nothing. Her own body felt foreign, like gravity had increased pressure. She could endure it, she knew that. If she could bide her time her own powers would adjust and adapt to the inhibitor, finding doors and outlets around the problem. Once she could visit a library she would be able to expedite things exponentially. No one would worry over her power though since they would believe her neutralized. Things would only get easier and she only had to keep remembering that.

"Drink this." He muttered as he physically wrapped her hands around a warm cup.

His hands were warm, fingers soft but calloused from battle and probably other various tasks. She did not know exactly what his life was like as the king of this world but she could guess it was not easy considering what he had to work with. She wished he would leave his hands around hers for the rest of the day but he withdrew once the delicate China was situated in her grasp.

When she took a sip it was admittedly quite nice, calming her nerves the way she would expect some eleven remedy would, though she could swear she tasted Oolong with hints of chamomile flower. Perhaps she was not wrong.

"Once you feel recovered I will escort you to the hall for the repast." Thranduil remarked casually, ignoring the way her head jerked up in response, "Now that you are in compliance with my decree, you may be allowed to move about so long as you are not left unattended. The first step will be to dine with a small group of my people."

"I suppose you wish to parade your conquest about. Prove your dominance. " Loki flinched at her own unwise and impulsive words, "No, my apologies, I did not mean that. It. .."

"Quite alright." His eyes traveled the curve of the vaulted ceiling as he sipped his own drink from an equally delicate looking cup. "I expect you to feel less than cordial. I would be more surprised if you harbored no ill feelings. I took something from you and you have the right to resent me."

Lowering her eyes, Loki shook her head, "No, you have been the only one to extend me kindness and respect. It is to my own detriment that I do anything to drive away my only friend over my feelings of frustration. I meant none of it." She could not decide how much of her words had been her own feelings and what had been said to appease.

In the silence that followed, she wondered if he had the same trouble. They drank their tea, if indeed it was tea, to substitute conversation. Loki worked to gather herself and her wits for later. There was much she needed to fortify herself for and against. Her mind would need to be sharp not hazy.

She was glad he offered her time to re-center herself. He neither looked at her or pressed her with his presence, simply there. There was nothing to cause her more stress at the moment, only silence. There was time to drink from her cup and absorb the warmth, enjoying the feel on her fingers and down her throat. He said nothing and moved only to take drinks of his own until each had drained the saucers.

He was the one to initiate action, "The evening meal should be served now. Shall we go and partake?"

She felt a bit too ill to be hungry but she nodded anyway, pushing away the blankets and moving her feet off the bed. There was a set of slippers ready, though she thought she had been wearing them earlier but she supposed he might have removed them. Her feet slid easily into them and she stood.

Standing unbalanced her equilibrium, making her sway like an old tree in the wind, but a hand was quickly offered. She let her eyes travel from the lines in his palm to his face. He looked so stoic and unshakable, features the essence of refined blankness. Back straight, shoulders square, feet planted, one hand held out for her and the other tucked behind his back like an eagle wing, he was the picture of a well bred lord. There was a distance now that had not existed when last they were together.

Loki hesitantly took his hand, allowing him to steady her and pull her into a better stance. He held her hand, keeping his arm strong and perfectly steady for her. Some strange part of her was tempted to simply keep hold but instead she nodded at him to indicate she was well. He let go only to reach back and pull forward a thick, shimmering shawl of some kind, holding it up in invitation for her to step into, which she did.

In the fleeting moment he took to wrap it around her shoulders all she could focus on was how warm he was and how pleasant the additional garment was. The cold was something she was growing used to but the warmth was welcome. He was unerringly kind beneath his cold shell and that was unfortunate; she had always been unable to keep herself from damaging those sorts of people, intentionally or not.

When he next bent his arm for her, wordlessly offering her a more formal escort, she accepted, allowing him to take the lead once again. He tugged her from the room and she followed, meek in the face of his overwhelming aura, which normally would have upset her but she did not mind in this moment. She was never meek but he seemed to defuse her need to be brash with his own calm. It was odd.

Her eyes were still difficult to keep open and she supposed that must be playing a large part in her relaxed state. Without him watching over her she might slither back to bed. Still, he was a strong and easy to lean on; not that she planned to make a habit of it but he was.

The fabric of her dress and his robes rustling over the polished floors was an interesting sound. It was a scratch and drag with a softer edge. The sound of fine clothing dragging perfect floors was a familiar sound. She heard it all her life walking behind Odin and Frigga, beside her brother when they entered banquets together.

If they had wine at dinner she decided she best not drink it when she was like this.

Walking the carved passageways beside Thranduil was a vastly different experience from her times sneaking through on her own or running from pursuers. This way she was able to appreciate the view. It was a sight with all the dangling lights and manicured stonework. She had the perfect escort to see it with for who knew the way like a king?

Later, perhaps on the way back, if he was the one to return her, she would ask him questions about its architecture and history. Then she would ask what she was allowed to see and drop hints about places she wished to visit. The library would be on the list and anything else he allowed, though asking to see the weaponry would be going a step too far. He lead her to yet another staircase with no railings and a dome above glittering with lights like stars.

"Greetings, lord Thranduil!" A warm, jovial voice echoed upward, stopping the Elvenking cold in his steps.

His arm feel to his side subtly, cutting the connection between them and Loki followed suit. Her eyes traveled down the long bridge to find the source of interruption. A rather fidgety Cíldaer was stood beside a tall, ancient looking man.

The great king took on a new, more closed posture, almost like a very regal tortus, "Mithrandir." He tipped his head in greeting, sharp eyes zeroing in on the figure at the end of the stairway. "I was not expecting you. Have you been well cared for by my people?" There was such formal coldness to his tone, enough Loki almost expected frost to appear.

The old man only smiled wider, not noticing, "Oh, yes! Quite, as always, my friend."

The term of endearment seemed to thaw Thranduil slightly, blunting his edges even if his tone remained lofty, "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Oh, I had a bit of business farther down the way but I could not resist checking in." His voice seemed bouncy with cheerfulness as he leaned against his dark wooden staff, smiling like a fool.

There was nothing of interest in his attire, utterly bland, save the rather ridiculous and over large, over pointed hat. Everything was gray, including the long, slightly curly, slightly stringy hair and beard he sported. The man was eccentric but ordinary until one looked closer. His eyes had a twinkle about them like he kept hundreds of secrets and somehow knew at least twelve things about you within a single glance. There was cunning in his kind, grandfather smile that was unnerving even while he inexplicably enticed others nearer. He was... like some hybrid of a spider, cuddly looking bear, wise owl, puppy, and fox.

Loki disliked him instantly even though part of her wanted to get closer. Ah, that was what he was! The moon, push and pull, and all seeing. If ever the moon were to take shape in anything resembling human it would be the man before her. There was no way he could be trusted.

Thranduil stretched out a hand, waving vaguely to the left, "Will you extend us the honor of dining at our table tonight?" He cast a glance at the Captain stand-in before returning his quicksilver gaze to the old man, "You will of course sleep here tonight as well, Mithrandir."

"It would be my greatest pleasure! I could never resist such company, of course. Thank you for the most gracious invitation." Something about his voice made everything seem lighter and more humorous in nature.

Her blood chilled when those twinkling, knowing eyes fixed fully to her where they had only skimmed her before. He studied her, peeling her apart layer by layer, dissecting her the way Thranduil did but far worse. His eyes lost some of that glitter as they wandered up and down. She noticed well how his eyes lingered at her throat, her newest source of shame. Something told her he knew the significance of that black stone and that was too much for her endurance, not when he already unnerved her. It made her tempted to race directly back to what had become her room.

A hand extended stopped her and those silver eyes sunk deep and held her in place, "Lady Loki," he slipped his fingers around hers without fully giving her a choice and pulled her with him as he descended.

She tucked herself in close to his side, avoiding so much as glancing at the strange human. Her grip tightened when realization struck her suddenly; a staff. That man was potentially a wizard she had been told of, the Miar, which would explain a great deal already. It would be in her best interest and her endeavour to stay well away from him.

"I see I am not your only visitor, Thranduil." Mithrandir said conversational, even a little playful in tone, "Though she is far fairer than I, of course."

"I tried to tell you he was within our borders but you have been so busy I was unable to inform you." Cíldaer whispered hastily as he stepped in beside the Elvenking, almost clinging to his side as badly as Loki was.

Thranduil made no comment in answer to his subordinate, answering the wizard instead, "I am certain some still find you appealing, Gandalf the Grey. You are not without charm some might be drawn to."

At this the wizard chuckled low, a grin on his lips before he stuck a pipe between his teeth, taking a puff before answering, "I thank you for such a kind assessment, however untrue it might be." He looked at her again, making her feel burned when his eyes touched, "My dear lady, forgive my rude behaviors, dropping in unannounced and trying to monopolize your host's attention without so much the courtesy of introduction...though you surely already have picked up my name.

With a flourish, he removed his pointed hat and tipped his head before replacing the ugly headpiece, "Gandalf the Grey, hopeless wanderer and lover of the new and interesting, at your service."

Perhaps she imagined the way Thranduil tensed at the end, or his urging her to a near trot. "I am Loki, also a lover of the interesting," she was not about to say 'of Asgard.' "at yours."

For some unknown reason, the old man chuckled again, "You have made acquaintance with dwarfs, I see."

How would he know that exactly?

"On occasion." She stated shortly.

Her posture was as regal as would be expected, not directly giving away signs of distress but she was leaning so closely on the Elvenking that it would be simple enough to note from the front rather than the side.

Loki was immeasurably glad when Thranduil turned her into a wide open room with hundreds of tiny lights and a long table stretched out over the space. Flowers were abundant just as the food seemed to be. The smell was instant and succulent even if she had no appetite. It would mean an end to the chatter with this dangerous creature. She could slide awkwardly into a crowd that did not want her there...perhaps not so inconspicuous as would be ideal.

There were more present than she had been expecting. Dignitaries by the look of them. Now that she thought of it and now that all eyes, including the ever displeased price's were landing upon her, she believed it would have been better to run when she had the chance. This would not be a pleasant evening in the slightest and all she could bring herself to do was link her fingers through Thranduil's, pleading silently for direction.

* * *

AN: It's never strictly stated how old Thranduil is, but lots of people think (me included) that he was alive during Thingol's kingship. Meaning he was around for Doriath and all the bad stuff that went down. Furthermore, it would also be where the"great serpents of the north" bit came in. It was that battle, the War of Wrath and the dwarf issue! Lots went down there and it's speculated that he was there just by little clues we get. I ran with that like I run with a lot of things, so that was what I was talking about when he made reference with Legolas to Doriath. Hope that is clear as mud like all my explanations tend to be.

I feel I should always end my chapters with an apology for slowness and sucky generality. Sooo I'm sorry for all my issues and thank you all for being kind to me anyway! The chapter was hard to write even though I knew what I wanted, it just wouldn't come...idk


	12. Always a Dance

~=Eitho nin=~

~Aid Me~

Always a Dance

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Gandalf, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

Don't get mad at me for what I did in this chapter. I had to do it, I really did

* * *

The dining area was actually rather grand with its high dome, sparking lights, silver, glitz and glamour. It looked like a place the royal aesthetic directors in Asgard, or the more delicate Alfheimr or the Vanir would approve of; actually they might have salivated at the natural beauty woven with the modern so effortlessly. Granted it was a cave but it did not look like a cave with the ornate stone carved pillars and fixtures.

It was also noted that Thranduil lied blatantly when he said a few important people would be in the room. This was clearly his war room cabinet in totality; advisors, generals, the ranking motley lot. They all wanted to see her, the great threat tamed by the sublime ruler. If they though the prevailing intent for their gathering was subtle they were foolish.

It did not matter over much if it was a gathering in Asgard, Midgard, or Arda, she could read a crowd. They were immaculate and aristocratic to the hilt. They shimmered when they moved, so polished they glowed as they glided over the smooth floor. It made her smirk just to look at them in what they considered their element.

They bowed politely to her as well as the Elvenking she inconspicuously clung to, giving pretence of honor to a guest. None spoke to her as she was guided to the table and placed swiftly between the Prince and Thranduil. In face of the visitor, Legolas seemed to be rallying to the cause and closing rank like a good son and subject.

A rather snide voice in the back of her mind reminded her that the great king would never let her so close to his son if her powers were not caged. She ignored the thought in favor of keeping her chin level and emitting all the authority she had left and some she did not.

Once the royal group was in place the entire room sank into chairs as one unit, like a choreographed dance. The wizard was the closest to being out of step but he was really only a beat behind.

Though not a word was whispered the group as a cohesive element had slid into protective placement. The guests ensured Mithrandir was seated beside the Elvenking but very talkative members were placed on his other side and in front of him to monopolize the wizard. No one drew undue attention to Loki, acting more like she was a staple item. It seemed they thought the time of Gandalf's visit suspiciously convenient without any more than a few side long glanced between them.

Every one of them seemed intent to let nothing slip with the wizard around, treading carefully so as not to hint at there being anything unusual in the arrangement. Some pretended they were there to see the Mia and perhaps some were.

Loki felt like a statue, admired but not particularly acknowledged. They looked but none spoke to her, simply smiling tightly or nodding politely if eye contact was made. It was really very like being a pet permitted to stand guard beside the throne; placed for looks and intimidation only. It was repulsive and she wanted to rip them all the ribbons simply to prove she could! Did they really believe she could not do with cutlery what she could a sword? She was the goddess of chaos and she could not be stopped so-

Thranduil's foot nudged hers subtly under the table almost in comfort but she could not be sure he had done it intentionally. It was only when she nudged back that she knew he had been purposeful, the subtle shift in his eyes telling her all. He was trying in very small ways to make it less pitiable.

It did not work but it was something, more than she expected. Had this been another ruler he would have had her seated at his feet with chains holding her in place to prove he was better. This king was something to be thankful for, she supposed.

"Think nothing of it, Mithrandir. Unannounced you may be but you are an honored guest none the less." Thranduil said in slow and easy tones, in answer to something Loki had paid no attention to, "I am certain we would all be honored if you would regale us with your adventures."

The old man laughed and smiled with glimmering mischief, "My friend, you are to be relied upon for flattery..." the grin only grew wider when he said, "at least when you intend to cajole information from me." He was jovial and teasing when he nodded, "But you know my weakness for storytelling, though I am but a humble wizard."

"Humble might not have been my choice of descriptors for you." There was a hint of humour in even the Elvenking in the face of such brightness and frivolity.

The table hummed with laughter even before the wizard huffed something under his breath. The Aesir turned her attention away once more, focusing on her surroundings instead of the conversation she could not join.

The table was well set, plates already full whether she wished to eat or not. It was the traditional setting with multiple plates, multiple utensils, and water and wine for each place set. The tension in each of her partners was almost an entity of its own even with the bursts of laughter. A breeze would have snapped their spines. The Prince was the worst, probably loathing the air she breathed.

It would be interesting to see what she could bring from him to distract herself. She felt incapable of eating, still shaken and ill. If she did nothing but sit quietly they would notice she was partaking of nothing. Better to start her own pastime than listen to others.

Loki leaned in, lowering her voice so only the stiff statue of a Prince could hear, "I see elves have the same problem at parties that my people have."

"What problems might they be?" His lips only just moved, eyes fixed on some spot or blemish on his wine glass.

"The trouble for every girl at a party; put on a nice dress, accessorize accordingly, and suddenly no one finds you interesting. Every lady unfairly dresses to ensure we all look essentially alike. They try to stand out yet all look the same in the end." She swirled her finger to indicate a few rather too glamorous elves at the table, "How is a girl to stand out in such a crowd? Can't catch a man's eye like this. Though men like those only find you interesting if you put a mirror round your neck and compliment their hair."

At first Legolas did not respond but tension slowly seemed to be dragged from his body, "Speaking of which, is my hair in order, my lady? Have I need to smooth it again, or perhaps pick a leaf from it?"

There, so he could play. Perhaps he too felt excluded.

"Well, I wasn't planning to point it out, but I had noticed a few twigs." She motioned vaguely at the back of his head, noticing only then that he traded the intimidating armor for more acceptable silks.

He frowned, "Do I really or are you trying to trick me? I could only imagine the future commentary Girion would have waiting for me." On this she could not tell if he was serious or joking.

"Ah, well, your hair is stringy enough no one could tell the difference." Loki took a sip of what looked and tasted like the water she was familiar with from the pools in an attempt to sway the gnawing sensation of construction in her chest; it helped only for a moment.

Legolas let out a rather undignified snort, though it was quiet enough no one notice, "Exactly where are the compliments you are supposed to be offering in place of that mirror?"

She lifted a single brow at him, allowing it to look playful, forcing herself to be animated, "I would only need to offer them if I desired your attention, which I care nothing about. You are too homely and spindly for my taste."

Legolas pretended to wince but the slight spark in his eyes gave him away, "You are very hard on me."

"You could use deflation of your ego more often." Thranduil muttered ever so softly into his goblet before sipping, but his eyes never strayed their direction to indicate he was listening.

Her eyes darted to her other table partner, not having realized he heard until he interjected the line delivered so flatly.

Legolas retrieved his own goblet, glancing at his father from the corner of his eye, voice not even above a whisper, "Your hair has been looking a bit like straw lately, since we are on topic."

It surprised her that they were humoring her game so easily, engaging in the tiny bit of fun. Had anyone asked she would have declared it impossible. What changed between them she wondered. More still, why? The princeling should be angry with her. Not that it mattered now, that could be saved for later. She could not help smiling at the table like a fool.

Neither of them shifted expression in the slightest, portraying total focus elsewhere, but when Thranduil sipped from his wine again it was obvious he had a retort, "Like father, like son. Homely as a door."

"Depends on the door." Legolas fought off what would have bloomed into a smile with some effort.

These two, like anyone too long in the public eye, had hidden arguments down to perfection. Any not between them might never realize they were actively batting insults.

When she began this conversation it had been with no real expectation but this subtle banter amused her almost enough to let her forget the rocks in her stomach, "Be still, you are both pretty as a flower." She muttered into her napkin even though she had yet to take a bite of the leafy green pieces before her, merely pushing it with her utensil conspicuously.

"Flattery will not get you out of dinner, I fear. Your regard is noted, however." Thranduil's chin tilted her direction but he did not look at her.

"I thought it worth a try." Her shoulders lifted just slightly before falling in a sigh.

The crowd was watching them even if most were listening to Mithrandir banter with the elf opposite him. Eyes were drilling into her whenever they felt they could do so unobserved. The wizard was animated enough and loud enough to be the center of attention though. He seemed a natural story teller even if she only gave him a small portion of attention.

"If fortune is with us they well forget we exist when the music and dance has commenced." Legolas tipped his glass as if to toast an invisible partner.

Shockingly, he really seems to be making an effort; to talk to her, be polite, and potentially to not actively plot her death; why, she has no idea. She would ask but it would ruin things. Eventually she will figure it out without being told. For now it might be best to run with it.

"Dance?" Loki muttered in disgust, hiding her horror under irritation. As she was she could not manage even the slowest of dance. The tiredness still clung to her like a badgering ghost or leach. Sipping water made her feel less like her throat wanted to close but never for long. What she really wanted was more of the tea she had on waking.

"Oh yes, it is common. The music begins to develop a faster tempo well before we are finished dining to put us in the mood." The Prince took a bite of whatever he had been nibbling on before she spoke.

Now that he mentioned it, she took stock of several harps and a flute quietly playing in the corners. She was too nervous and so intent to will away the progressively insistent lump in her throat that had nothing to do with emotion that she never noticed.

She originally planned to stay away from the wine in the current company lest it swarm any good judgement she possessed. It seemed prudent to be wary in this gathering but if they planned to make her dance she would need all the help she could find. Sitting in a dignified manner was hard enough but coordination to move her feet in rhythm would be asking a great deal.

Her slim fingers locked on the goblet and she took a sip, curling her lips tightly around the rim for another in succession. Like the water it was sweeter than expected but still very subtle and light. It was not made with grapes but she had no idea what the bouquet might have been. It hit her tongue and shot a zing of warmth into her brain. Strong then. Not something she could afford to drink much of just now.

If only she could have indulged and lost herself in the promising numbness things would have looked so much better but she could not afford it the way Thor and the band of merry men. No, she had to stay smart like always.

"Tauriel told me of the incident." This time Legolas spoke so quietly she was forced to take a moment to understand.

"Is that so?" was all she thought to say.

"It is." He said very seriously, "Her actions were foolish and dangerous, not to mention bordering on explosive. She made no secret of that." The addendum was easy to see coming, "However, there was need of change, in that she was right even if her method was wrong. You may think little of her but she has a good, strong, and brave heart."

There were so many scathing responses she could have offered but she rejected all of them.

"Actually, my opinion is not as low as you might think. I grudgingly respect her moxie as trying as the ordeal was." She took another drink to steady her nerves. "There is no love lost between us but she explained quite clearly why she did what she did."

"That is very amicable, considering." He did not seem to be able to look at her long before his eyes ducked away.

Loki offered a wan smile while she traced the rim of the glass with her index finger, "After the last little while, events as they were, I have no energy for a grudge so small nor have I the capacity to stupidly hope anything will turn out well. I have come to expect the worst and I have not been disappointed."

Actually, she always had energy for a grudge but she was starting to care less.

He stared long into her eyes, not unlike his father when he puzzled her out, "That seems a bit bleak."

Her smile turned sharp and bitter, "I have no reason to alter my belief when I am only ever proved correct. It no longer maters what I do for it will all end the same."

"The future is malleable and fluid. One can't tell what is ahead or what can be changed. It is best not to give up lest you make it solid." If she did not know better she would say he was trying to encourage her.

"While I am appreciative, I am not unaware of your hatred." She told him mildly, "You need not pretend you wish me anything but ill. You and that lady friend would see me gone and I understand... I would oblige and return to my home if possible."

His head tilted to one side, light hair sliding off one shoulder, "I'm sorry."

It was hard to tell what he was passing sympathy over, perhaps everything. Not that it mattered. There was nothing to do regardless. They might be capable of speaking civilly but they were not friends.

Loki stabbed a few leaves and bit down, chewing slowly but regretting it the minute she swallowed. Food hurt going down when liquid soothed. It did not help the sick feeling either.

The music, she noticed, was gaining speed. It the Prince was correct that would indicate the meal was winding down and the music winding up for the mingling.

For the sake of appearance she took a second bite of food disfiguring the rest as best she could. It did not take long before the consensus to end the dinner was reached and plates were cleared away to leave guests free to stand.

The Elvenking stood first and it was a rush of chairs scraping the floor after. The elves were migrating in a flock like birds toward the open space.

Thranduil was quick to take her arm but not swift enough.

"My good lady, Loki!" The aged, cheerful and distinct voice called for her attention as his wrinkled face leaned around Thranduil.

"Yes, good sir?" Loki squared her shoulders as eyes migrated onto her almost painful.

"I do not recall having met you in my ventures and I wondered, since we both seem to be guests this fine evening, if I might claim the first dance with you?" Mithrandir smiled benevolently but there was still that knowing look to his eyes.

She could not stop herself from turning hesitant eyes to the king's only to find his eyes on her just as apprehensive, "You wish to make me a hated woman for monopolizing the most interesting and sought after guest in attendance?"

The laugh he offered was bubbly and infectious enough to bring most to smile, "Thranduil, you have a rival for your own famed silver tongue."

Loki only just resisted a flinch at those words, finding it hard to believe he might never have visited Asgard. How many times had she been called that and been put down for it? It was a taunt rather than a praise where she came from. Gandalf did not seem to mean it as such but she could not be sure. Then again, she did not even know if Gandalf was his name or if it was Mithrandir, not for certain; both could be titles.

Thranduil merely smiled good-naturedly, "I am well aware of her talent. Perhaps it comes from her many travels."

Loki shot a withering look at him, worried he might dig her a grave she could not climb out of. She knew nothing of the land to speak of. She looked like an elf but she did not know if she could pass as one when questioned. It would have been better if he claimed they had locked her in an ivory tower for a few hundred years. The best she could do would be to parrot whatever had been told to her about the land and nothing more. While she was an expert at dodging questions she did not know how long she would last.

Perhaps she could tell him a battle story about Orcs to keep him entertained. She could bring up the spiders too.

The wizard beamed at her, "Ah, then we simply must dance so we might exchange tales!"

"Of course, you two must dance. It would only be fair of me to share her company." Thranduil dipped in a slight bow, ignoring the startled look coming not only from her but several others.

What had he just done to her? It was difficult to keep from gaping at him. After all the work they had done to keep them apart he was handing her over now? She would stab him in his sleep and drown him for this! How skilled a liar did he believe she was? The look she threw him as the old man spirited her away must have said as much if the apologetic look he returned was to be believed.

Loki resisted a wince when the familiar shot of pain like fire laced up her fingers and arm when the large, wrinkled hands touched her. It was the same feeling the first time any particularly strong and rival power was too close. It was like the time the ruler of Muspellheim impelled his presence on her at a gathering. On this occasion she simply had to take it, allowing it to have it's way since she could not push back with her own force. It was a living thing in its depth and it knew it could have its head to encroach upon her space with its unwelcome advance. The wizard's magic crawled around her like smoke and she nearly swore she felt it enter her lungs.

She must have looked bewildered for the first words Gandalf spoke were around a boosterish smirk, "No need to fear, my dear, I am but a simple man. I am not in the habit of hexing new friends."

Loki grinned sharp and confident to rectify the damage, "I am not worried, I simply detest dancing. I had intended to escape quietly before any could catch me."

He raised a perplexed brow, "Are you certain you have not been spending far too much time with the king? I seldom find a young one that does not dance."

She shrugged, locking eyes with him to prove she could, "Perhaps. Even so I have no interest in it."

"No dashing lad you would enjoy dancing with in place of an old man? You are a splendid partner." Mithrandir seemed kind enough but much too curious.

If anything she was surprised she was keeping up, desperately trying not to trip over her numb toes. The others swirling around them were light as feathers and twice as movable. The dance was not like she was used to, less about closeness and more about the sway of music. There was little to do but watch the others as best she could and follow his lead. "I fear not, Sir. None that interest me." She kept her tone cagey.

"Not even in your travels?" His eyes sparked brightly at her, "The world is vast, as I'm sure you know."

The magic swelled, she felt it even if she did not know what it was up to.

It was a near thing but she managed not to trip or jump away from his potentially overly insightful wording, "If anything I grow more resistant to their charms for I have seen it before. No matter the place, men are the same."

He chuckled low and quiet, "I see it has left you cynical. Not all men or women are the same. There are a rare few treasures if you search for them. People can surprise you, the seemingly insignificant can turn into the greatest and most influential."

"I do believe you are trying to advise me in my lack of love life." She let him spin her out and she returned heavily with her hand nearly clutching his shoulder for balance. The fast motion and spinning hurt...everything, but her head most of all. There was surprisingly little contact in the dance itself, mostly just fingers and arms, so leaning on his shoulder was telling indeed. He said nothing as she pulled herself quickly into position again. She was dizzy now though and trying not to show it.

"Some have told me I am prone to meddling, I fear. That is what happens when you are my age, the lives of the young become more interesting." He sounded apologetic but his eyes betrayed that he was not. "But I have little doubt you have heard such things about me already."

"I have heard of you, yes. I am sure all of Arda knows the grand and powerful Gandalf the extraordinaire!" It was a gamble but she tried for an equally playful smile to offer in lack off knowing what she was talking about.

It was easy to make him laugh it seemed, "I do not believe I am the only charmer present in this room."

"Very true." She agreed, "The lord Thranduil and Prince Legolas are here."

"Yes, of course," he nodded, "them as well."

Loki was desperate for the song to end so she could escape to some dark corner to nurse the ache in her head and the ever hard to ignore ill feeling. They twirled around in silence for a blessed few moments before it was ruined.

"Where do you hail from, lady Loki?" Mithrandir asked conversationally.

"Many places, I am not one to linger on one plot very long. I find places dull if I am there overly extended periods. As you say, I am still young so I intend to see all I can." She was evasive as she could be, saying a lot without saying anything.

"I would imagine you have been to Ithilien and Gondor in your travels? Or perhaps Lindon?" Did the magic twirl at that?

Something in his eyes put her off and made her senses prickled to a trap, "Why would you ask that?"

"Curiosity, I suppose. I believe Elrond might have been there recently." He told her off handedly as if to explain.

What was she supposed to say? "Is he well then?" For her sake she hoped he was because that was a name she had heard of.

"Yes, quite well, I should think. Do you know him well?"

Oh good, more potential traps to step into, "In passing, when I have been near Imladris." Loki desperately hoped she had the name right and that the song ended or perhaps the ground might swallow her.

"Then you have visited Rivendell?" He arched his wrinkled brow in a happy sort of expression.

Those names were the same place, she felt sure, "I suppose everyone has at some point." Or she bloody well hoped so and really hoped she was not naming some place at the bottom of the ocean.

"Gandalf," Legolas was suddenly at their elbows with a bright smile, "do you plan to steal her company all night? A beautiful thing like her is a coveted commodity." If he noticed how she bristled at being totally objectified he did not show it, "To that, I hope you would not be greatly offended if I stole her from you?"

The long beard swished over the gray robes as he shook his head, "Far be it for me to stand in the way of the young, my dear boy! I shall forgive it." And with no more than that she was swept away in Legolas' hold.

At last she felt she could breathe, and she did, dragging in air by the gulps. By the nine realms, that man was powerful! The farther away the price moved her the more she could feel her paralyzed magic disentangle itself from his and the way it had so totally encompassed her.

There was no helping how comical their retreat was no matter how tactical. It seemed it should be obvious the ellon was not interested in dancing but rather in flitting her around to the opposite side of the room. So long as the Maia did not notice it mattered little since all others knew exactly what was happening and why. They parted easily enough at least.

"What did he ask you?" Legolas did not look at her when he asked, his focus was all around the room.

"About my love life first, second my travels. I dodged most of his inquiry." Loki shivered with the sudden cooler feel of the room, "I wish to take a moment to recover my nerves. Will you permit me a corner with which to lick my wounds?"

"There are few places of solitude to be fun but I shall give you what I can." He wove them skillfully through the ocean of bodies until they found a wall; at that point he dropped her hands like they were poisoned, "I must speak with my father now that you are at a safe distance. Stay here."

At a safe distance? There was no such place when she was surrounded by hostility but she would let him think what he wished. There was more than one threat to her even if not to him. Then again, there could have been traitors in this crowd so maybe he was less secure than he thought? There were always a few in every court.

She said nothing as he retreated into the swarm of motion, glad to see him go. That proved he did not know her. Loki did not wait nor stay where she was left. It was petulant but she spotted curtains and moved into the very small terrace, closed in as it was. No one was in it so she felt safe enough to hide.

She fell like death and she wanted to leave this disgusting party. For that matter she wanted to leave the realm! There were places she could go and hide herself away. She had to get away, desperation driving her to hide as much as obstinence. Being alone made her relax and that made her feel worse. When she propped herself against a pillar she made sure to look petulant and uninviting but she was simply thankful to the stone for holding her up.

"Are you unwell, child?" A soft, resonant voice enunciated each word as carefully as the Elvenking if not more so.

There was something so phlegmatic about the voice that she did not even startle as she turned her head to look at the tall creature stepping in beside her, "I wonder, is that a polite way of critiquing? Am I so repulsive that you must ask?"

His face was distinct, sharp and soft at once, unique in a way most would be ordinary; handsome but not classically or delicately so like most of the elves; refinement itself in his stance and countenance but strong as a mountain with all the rough edges, "You assume I insult everyone... upon greeting?" His thick brows rose with those carefully spoken words.

Most in the crowd wore a circlet of some kind on their head, some sort of status symbol or identifier she did not understand; he was no exception but the one resting atop his head was understated, nearly simple as it mingled with his long variegated mixture of blond, red, and hints of platinum hair.

"It was the greeting you offered so it is all I have to go by." She countered.

He looked older than most in the crowd, wrinkled slightly around the eyes, a frown line between his brows and brackets around his mouth. They were normal signs of aging but something told her it was less to do with his physical form and more to do with his soul; age that came from watching pain and trying to ease it. A healer, judging by his pristine white robes that screams medical no matter what world a person hailed from. They were fine robes, not so different from the others but enough to tell.

His laugh was rich and smooth like his voice, smile gentle without loss of playfulness, "Yes, I suppose I should have remembered the niceties of polite gatherings where a name such as Alandaer might be offered."

"Well, political cadence is generally overrated, however, it is a pleasure... my lord Alandaer." Her smile lost a little of hardness.

His hooked nose - broken and unattended too long - would indicate he was not one to stand at the side and watch battles but participate. The scar she saw peeking from under his collar and traveling up his neck and to his jaw would also indicate he was a survivor that was hard to kill. His large, soft looking hands peppered with scars told her the same. She could see an iron will in his dark eyes.

"I claim the pleasure of this encounter, truly. However, Queen Loki, my initial question stands." There was so much emotion wrapped up in the slight lowering of his brow and downturn at the corners of his mouth. It spoke of sympathy with no more than a hint of reaction. He could have been the most expressive person she had ever met.

"Why did you ask it?" Something inside her had preened at the show of deference only Thranduil seemed to offer willingly. She knew why he asked considering she was hiding in the only dark corner available.

"You are not forthcoming with information regardless of the subject, are you?" There was another arch look aimed at her but the underlying aspect was solicitous, and she had no doubt she judged his profession correctly.

"No." She admitted frankly.

"Let me see your hand." The healer held out his own expectantly and assiduously.

Loki eyed his hand incredulously, "Demanding aren't you?" She obeyed all the same.

"So long as it works I see no reason to be any other way." When he focused his voice was positively sonorous.

The Aesir let him stare and cradle her smaller hand in his. There was generally no love lost between herself and any healers but she felt tolerant of this one. Unlike being touched by the wizard, this touch was warm and safe. He relaxed her so easily she was relatively sure he used some whispered spell against her but she still was not worried. At the most he would be able to tell them she was not an elf or human and at best he could tell them she was deprived of magic. If he could feel the shaking in her hand he would be further able to ascertain she was ill.

Time stretched and he silently demanded her other hand, pushing up her long sleeve and then starting into her eyes for a good two minutes.

"Wait here." He ordered before turning on his heals and floating from the room.

There was a near smirk on her lips as she started. There was as much chance of her staying where she was left for him as there had been for Legolas.

She tipped her chin back shutting her eyes when it pulled and accentuated the ball hiding in her throat. There was something in her throat, it had become more and more prominent as the evening dragged on. It made eating unthinkable, especially since it also made her feel just that much more ill. Drinking was not much better and there was no comfortable way to hold her head that didn't make the feeling flair. If she tipped her chin up far enough it eased it but who went around with their chin that far in the air?

Her chilled fingers pressed at the discomfort in her throat, feeling for a lump or injury of some kind but there was nothing to explain what she felt. It was like being strangled very slowly with a thumb pressed to her windpipe just enough to hurt.

There was ice in her fingers and toes, permeating her legs, and she was miserable. The little she had eaten seemed to be turning against her or souring. Her whole body twitched and she felt the threat of her meal turning.

The blood was pumping hard in the backs of her eyes and behind her temples, drumming a litany she swore she could hear. She closed her eyes but could still see far too much light.

Maybe he would return with tea like Tauriel had been given and she finished. If she could be that lucky! More likely he had gone off to get a guard to lock her up.

Leaning against the arch, she pressed her cheek to the wall, willing herself to feel even marginally better. She turned her face to the corner to escape the light and calm the pounding. Walls were helpful things and she clung to it to stay upright. She felt so sick, to the point she contemplated the varieties of poison they might have put into her drink. The poison could all be different here and she would never know.

Something was very wrong and if not poison she supposed it could only be her twice damned necklace. There had been discomfort when she woke but she thought it would pass, not worsen.

She needed sleep. She was tired!

"Are you alright?"

Loki gasped, whirling wide eyes to face the speaker, forcing her body into perfect posture once more, intent on showing strength even if it killed her. Legolas' worried expression was slow to register in her mind but she thought it nearly touching that it appeared genuine.

"Yes," she forced out quietly when she realized she had done nothing but stare at him, "of course. Thank you."

He stated hard into her face, looking far from convinced but he did not speak.

Loki saw no reason to waste her only chance to escape the "party." Better this than nothing, "Might I make a request, Prince Legolas?"

A certain wariness darted into his eyes and his tone tightened, "What is your request, lady Loki?"

"Might I request you offer me escort back to my rooms? I am tired and...bored." She finished lamely, unable to produce anything of intelligent or convincing merit.

His eyes traveled to her shoulders and then back to her face as if searching for something, "Very well, I would be able to return you."

A few threads of the tension in her body released and she offered a wan, weak smile, "Thank you."

He said nothing more as he turned away, making for the main doors. She followed as quickly as she felt able without causing herself to crumple. The ellon walked swiftly ahead of her for a time, but on glancing back, he slowed enough to drop back to her side. He walked the way his father did, or at least something like it in a less refined sort of way. She could see that he tried to imitate the posture at the least.

Her eyelids grew heavy as they walked and wished she could close them, startled when she realized she had closed them long enough to miss the turn Legolas' tug on her elbow was enough to rouse her from apparently something close to sleepwalking. His hand remained, fingers just barely gripping but staying all the same.

Wakefulness returned when she felt the familiar threat from her previous consumption, "Is there," she waved a hand in circles, willing the words to come, "a ladies room somewhere near? Close?"

He regarded her blankly, not following.

Loki gagged, slapping her hand over her mouth to gain control but unsuccessfully. She jerked away from his hold spinning toward the walls and anything she could lean against. She tried to bolt, escape to any hiding place at all, but her feet were heavy and there was no place to run. In the end she was reduced to heaving over a potted plant, saliva dripping from her lips. When the dry heaving finally ended she was peeled away from her grip on the edge of the pot and carefully guided to her feet.

Legolas offered her a handkerchief and she accepted. His hands were on her shoulder and round her waist so she pulled away quickly with what precious little dignity she had left.

"You are ill." He stated blandly.

Loki could not resist scoffing, "Astute as ever, my Prince."

The corners of his lips twitched with threat of a smile and his frown softened, "I mean, you should see a healer."

Loki moved ahead, strolling with all her shattered dignity, "No need, the food simply did not agree. Besides, you should be pleased to have my pride crushed into dust." She paused suddenly, turning her eyes to his when he moved to walk beside her, "What exactly was it you tried to speak with me about before you were caught?" When dignity was hard to find, averting attention onto a topic in which the other person had been shamed was the best course.

True to form, those broad shoulders tensed, "Now would not be the time."

"We are alone." She offered.

"Even so." He shook his head, "It is not opportune. I would speak with you another time when things are calm."

Loki sighed but let it fall to simply walk with him. She did not care about anything more than gaining her bed. The night had been tiring and she was well and finished with all of it.

"I will tell my father you are ill and make-"

Loki snarled, cutting him off, "No, you will say nothing!" She regretted stressing her throat already, "This was nothing as I told you."

"You are unwell, Loki. I could not in good conscience-"

"I am fine, I told you! Don't bother worrying for the sake of noble aspiration. Believe me, I need none of it. I have lived through much worse than a simple moment of upset. I desire nothing from you or your father, only that I be left alone! Can you not understand?"

Legolas started at her and seemed a bit stunned.

"I will take charge of her, Legolas."

Both their eyes snapped forward to Alandaer standing stoically in the hallway. He looked no more flustered than he had in the dining area but his eyes were fiery. That was not a man that took kindly to disobedience. Perhaps she had been unwise to go against him but she had not expected him to catch her.

* * *

Thranduil walked beside the Maia, simply waiting as they made a path through the garden. The moon was hidden by the trees but the blue light still filtered down on them. The wind whispered little nothings at the two, telling secrets none but a few could understand. The guards followed at a distance, lazily strolling with them in seeming secret, giving the illusion of privacy.

As was customary, the Istari had his pipe lit and in hand, puffing at it occasionally. The pipe was never really very far or long from Gandalf's hand. It was part of his personality and possibly his charm. There were things about the wizard that were easily learned as well as not. He played the part of simplicity but he was complex and it showed for anyone watching.

It was late in the evening and the guests left slowly, each trying to catch a word with the Elvenking. They all had much to say but not enough trust to give it so long as an outsider, even a friend of all people; thus untrustworthy in his lack of bias; was there to overhear. Perhaps he could be glad for the surprise visit in that matter.

The trouble with wizards was their perpetual agenda. There was always a reason for every trip they took and each word spoken. Sooner or later the wizard would come to the point. He was patient and being immortal meant he had the time. Then again, Mithrandir was no different.

When the wizard spoke it was hushed to avoid their company from hearing, "How long has she been staying with you, out of curiosity?"

Thranduil considered feigning a lack of understanding but decided against it as an act in futility, "I suppose she has been here a week or a little more." He did not bother to ask why.

"Do you know very much about her travels? Where she has traveled?" Smoke drifted from his mouth in rings as he spoke.

The Elvenking lowered his chin to give a very slight nod, "She has told me much of it, yes." There was nothing he would offer freely but he thought the Maia knew that, or expected as much. Friendship and respect only traveled so far.

The knowing smile was telling enough what had been expected, "You have always been secretive and difficult. It is a wonder why I still find myself enjoying your company!" There was fondness in the frustration.

Thranduil's expression could not help softening into something equally as sentimental and exasperated, "You have always been cryptic and slow to say what you mean. I believe we frustrate each other equally."

Mithrandir hummed in response, taking another draw before speaking, "She is not what she seems but I believe you are aware of that fact. Believe it or not, I did not come to taper in your dealings, whatever the nature may be." If the tone was a judge, he had a good number of guesses for that, "I did have a reason for my visit, however."

Thranduil chuckled dryly, "If ever a day came that you did not have underlying motivations for your every conversation, I feel assured the Valar themselves would faint with shock."

The look Mithrandir shot him from beneath bushy brows was disparaging and full of wordless chastising, "Regardless..." he allowed the word to hang for some time, looking off into the distance grimly, "I believe you should be made aware of a few things. For example, Thrain has indeed been alive longer than was previously believed."

The Elvenking rounded on the other man, eyes wide with surprise and no small amount of horror, "You found him?"

"Yes..." he spoke slowly, dragging his words out, "what was left of him. " There was sadness in those watery blue eyes that left no need to question further on the issue. "I discovered that Azog the defiler is very much alive, though I found only his trail and his endeavour to rid himself of an old threat."

"Oakenshield, you mean?" His nose very nearly wrinkled in disgust.

"Furthermore, I have heard tell of a necromancer. You know as well as I that something is moving closer. Strange things have been happening, I hear of them wherever I go. Orc forces seem to be moving and the direction, if I may say, might be Dol Guldur among others, and I do not need to explain the worry that is." The humour had left his haggard face and he only looked worn now.

"What more is there, Mithrandir? You would not come all this way to tell me of rumors. There is more."

The elf knew well the unrest in the north, the problems being hinted at so carefully. He suspected the worry was more for Rivendell and Elrond than for Mirkwood. Further, the worry would have been directed toward the split forces of the Iron hill dwarves and others scattered and vulnerable for it. The Maia knew something or he was about to begin something that would later come to light at inopportune times. There was more to this visit, so much more.

The way his wrinkles deepened was a sign of guilt, "On some matters I can only offer advice. Caution would be in your best interests."

The Elvenking could not help the way his body shifted on his heels to put Gandalf at his back, "How long will you be staying?" There were a hundred things on his tongue he held off.

"Well, to start with...long enough to understand why there is a stone dark and powerful, also very old, hanging around the neck of your guest. Perhaps also to hear answered a little puzzle of exactly what she is, because I have never once encountered an elf like her. While you are at it, you might help me understand the near explosion of magic lingering outside your borders and the rotting orcs to accompany it."

If Thranduil's tense shoulders slumped slightly with every lofty and expectant word the wizard spoke, who could really fault him? Of all the wizards to land at his door, why had it been this one, the most meddlesome one of the lot? Like all Istari, he was forbidden to directly influence, simply allowed to nudge and prod, which made it difficult to endure them.

They were wise and knew too much but revealed very little if anything. Gandalf was the closest to being helpful but even he often was of little assistance. More still, everyone knew an Istari was not above sacrifice if they believed it was for the greater good, and it did not matter who suffered for the goal. The goals of the Istari were not the same as the goals of elves or men, they cared little for individuals and focused on the whole. It was that reason the Find a could not fully trust any of them. Mithrandir at least was not above sacrificing his own life as he would allow others to die but it did little to comfort.

This man was the better of them, invested in Middle Earth as the others were less so, but he still had his own reasoning. There he stood, dragging on his pipe with irritation, acting very much as if he had been the wronged party for having information withheld! Well...the night was still young enough for them to test which of their resolves would crack first. There was no reason they could n exasperatete one another until the sun turned round again.

He was patient and there were questions he wished answered as well. One of the biggest suspicions was what it all had to do with the wizard's pet dwarf. Did he think himself the only one with ears? Or that Galadriel and Elrond were the only ones dreaming and seeing visions?

* * *

The elf's grip on her arm was firm but not painful. She endured it without struggle and allowed him to lead her into a room across from her own. It was larger than hers but it was similar in design. This room also was partially alive with greenery of various kinds in every corner and crawling it vines over the walls and smells of fresh earth, grass, flowers, and water.

She could picture Alandaer spending a rather excessive amount of time in this room, dirt and green stains dotting his pristine sleeves. He was the type to spend hours working on a medicine. It was less like the healing rooms of Asgard and more like those of the Vanir. Something about the felt safer to her, more relaxed, but it made no sense.

"Sit." His long fingers pointed toward a chair as he broke away from her and headed to a cluttered table.

Loki sat. She was too tired to argue or fight and the chair was comfortable. It would be nice to go to her own bed and fall into a very deep sleep. If she was lucky she might never awaken again. She watched him work, grinding, mixing, whisking, and every move way quick and precise. There was nothing wasted and nothing excessive. It was easily the most calming thing she had watched in her life.

There was nothing she could focus on very long. Her mind wandered aimlessly and she did not overly care. For some reason she believed this man would not hurt her and she felt at ease. The truth was that he could easily kill her and not a soul would care but he was not going to. She just knew it, intuition maybe.

When his fingers pushed her hair from her face, she gasped in through her nose, alarmed and baffled. Her heart raced wildly until she looked up into his deep, soulful eyes. He reminded her of someone.

"You feel asleep." He informed, obviously still annoyed with her over the earlier slight.

"Apologies. It was not from lack of interest." She smiled for him and watched his eyes soften.

"I imagine you are quite tired considering. It speaks to your vast stubbornness that you remained upright as long as you did." He agreed, pushing a cup into her hands similarly to the way Thranduil had some time earlier.

"Why is that? Because you people have run me into the ground?"

"Partially, but it has more to do with the way your body is trying to destroy itself while it also tries to hold together. Conflicting signals." His arms crossed over his chest as he started down at her mildly.

Loki frowned, taking a drink of what tasted like grass and flowers before speaking, "Say again?"

* * *

AN: The day he died I elf troped (if trope is the word I'm looking for, idk guest appearance)Alan Rickman into this story because I really needed to. (I was thinking of Sense and Sensibility or Mesmer, you know, all of those. I do have some Severus elements to him but that is not what I was going for if you were thinking it) I didn't even care that I had to rework the ending and so on.

I woke up and saw it and my day was ruined and so I instantly had a need to put him in something to make him an immortal somehow. So yeah. I almost wrote him into every story I have, and I still may, I don't know, I'm sad! I can't deal.  
Thorin, Fili and Kili's funeral guys! I watched the deleted scenes the other day because I'm masochistic! Why is everything sad!  
My computer also died a few days ago! Seriously! I wrote alot of this on my phone. I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and being a very displeased person because everything is dying and it's not okay.  
Sorry, ranted  
You might also have noticed I mixed movie and book (lost books unfinished tales and all) canon on Thrain. I mix cannon sometimes. So...


	13. Wizarding Ways

~=Eitho nin=~

~Aid Me~

Wizarding Ways

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood, Gandalf

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

*Alan Rickman

-borrowed as an elf named Alandaer because I **need** it

_AN:Adding this character actually helped speed the story along! She would have figured it all out eventually on her own but now she has someone to HELP, shocking thing that! I'm still not over Alan's death, ok! I'm not! I still get sad and roll around in dark corner sometimes. But with this I can just pretend he was secretly an elf all along and is fine. So that is all I have to say for myself on that._

* * *

Loki was blinking stupidly at him and she knew it but could not stop herself. Alandaer was looking at her with such depth, like he could see the very blood in her moving beneath skin. The look was analytical and much too visceral for her taste. She never enjoyed going to a healer for they always seemed to look at her with such knowing. Perhaps her fear of them finding out her secrets had something to do with it.

His voice was sonorous again, something she already attributed to his focus, "Your body is simultaneously attacking itself and trying to repair itself. You have remarkable healing ability innately as well as in your magical skill." He drew a long breath, clasping his hands, "I have studied the healing of all races, not yours... obviously, those indigenous to my own world. I dare claim myself skilled in the healing and overall understanding of illness to more than the Elven race. Because of this I have devised a bit of an understanding of your condition, or at least a working theory I should give sufficient confidence to."

"What might this theory consist of?" She leaned back to better stare at him and seem uninterested rather than weary.

"What I see in you has ties to conditions I have seen in other races. Magic complicates things, with any race, because they are all different, react differently to one an other. Some blood does not mix well, some magical ability playing part of oil to water. There can be dissonance, where some gravitate others repulse."

The imagery he painted with his hand motions when he spoke of gravitation or repulsion made her think of magnets that could not be touched together. Magnets had fascinated her as a child. Her arched brow must have indicated for him to continue.

"To some extent, you my lady, are dissonant to this place. Something within your power, though I do not know what, is fighting vengefully against something you are being exposed to." His eyes were soft, hinting at a smile suddenly, "I have a guess as to what considering your rapid decline, which is why I strongly doubt a particular prevailing fear circulating."

Loki frowned, holding her cup a bit more tightly, "What fear is it you doubt?"

Alandaer eased himself slowly to her side and cupped the dark jewel hung round her neck, "That you might be in league with someone with which this came to being from. It was made through a clash of great power and used against said dark forces. But with the way you react to it I should think you incapable of staying long in his presence for he would be as poisonous to you as to us, and more so. Your very existence rejects that power as it would a sickness."

She glanced at the stone as he let it slip from his hold, curling her upper lip in a partial growl, "You infer I am weak to this magic but it takes a good deal to do me any grave injury, I assure you!"

"Indeed, you are resilient and stubborn, but you have limitation. You are ill and this cannot be denied. You are weak and-"

"Do not insult me! I am not weakened by anything so trivial as you suggest!" Loki shot to her feet in a near rage only to encounter the floor rather closely, stopped from connecting with it only by strong arms promptly replacing her to her seat.

Her vision spun and she found the feeling of helplessness most unappealing. Her legs...did not support her, body betraying her in front of a witness. She would have been prone at his feet had he not-

"You are weak and your ability is trying to repair that," he continued as if nothing happened, not even changing tone, "it would have been doing so all along, perhaps from your first moment here when you encountered the contrary force. Now however, your magic is blocked to leave you in a similar state as one with open wounds left in the mud of a battlefield. You repair only to seal in the dirt, compounding the issue without way to extricate the harmful."

If he would so easily pretend she had not nearly fallen on her face who was she to argue? "What leads you to believe this, exactly?"

Rather than answer he returned with questions, "Have you been feeling unreasonably cold lately? Perpetually tired or off balance? Trouble breathing? Perhaps headaches? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Loki took a sip of the grass and flowers rather than responding but that seemed to give him answer enough anyway for he nodded decisively. It was infuriating to say the least. She detested people that could read her! Her temple gave a sharp stab to prove his point and annoy her further.

"You learned all of that from looking at my hands after dining?" She feigned an aloof tone.

He smirked very knowingly, too assured, "I see things most do not. Magic is as alive as you or I and it makes itself known as it pleases. As a man of healing it is my business to learn the meaning in reactions the body produces."

"So you can determine everything about me now, can you?" Her voice was mocking but his words frightened her more than she cared think of.

"No. There is much about you I find baffling, child, much indeed. You are more than you seem, and quite powerful. I see why you caught the kings eye." He was blatantly honest, quite a quality. Honesty was a tiring aspect to people.

"Do you agree with his choices then?" She lifted her cup in mock salute, "You think him wise to make use of my potential against foes yet to be determined, or perhaps yet to be forthcoming with acts of hostility? For I know it is something of that nature."

"Agree?" Alandear regarded her carefully down the point of his nose, "With all his choices... and actions... or the underlying reasons behind them?"

"Shrewd to quantify the question, dear doctor, in an uncertain world." Her smile was sardonic but she rolled her eyes, "But any will suffice." She thought he was very like a wise, skillful, brilliant owl. Not a raven, like Odin's birds, but definitely an owl. Thranduil was closer to a raven, an albino raven with too sharp a mind in accompaniment with sharp beak.

"I understand his choices but his methods could perhaps stand revision in some regard." His lip curled just slightly, "People will always fear what they do not understand but one must not allow fear to dictate to the point of placing it in great control. However, there is wisdom in actions that ease the minds of the populace."

Loki tossed him a smirk before sipping from the cup, "Your ability to move between honest or cryptic answers is impressive. You must attend court often."

The expression of severity lifted again and he seemed ready to smile, "I rarely agree completely with the actions of anyone but I have found that critiquing to others rather than directly to the individual them-self...is ineffectual and often counterproductive to amending problems." His eyes focused directly on her with startling clarity, "Which is why I intend to speak with Thranduil over my findings."

Loki arched a brow at him, "Whatever for?"

Alandaer pointed to the bobble around her neck, "While you were sure to develop these same problems over time, given your incompatibility, having the necklace sped the process exponentially while it also removed your natural ability to defend against what was damaging you. It must be removed for your health."

"I would have weakened to this..." She twirled a finger at the sky, "force eventually anyway?"

"Yes, given time enough it would have worn you down. Your essence is parallel to the darkness in our lands. Considering its strength, it would eventually have brought you to this point similarly to the way it has eroded the land." He looked disturbed all over again as if the words tasted foul to his tongue.

Loki paused, simply stirring her tea while she let the facts sink in. This dark force did not play well with her reality. She was allergic to it in a sense, like humans were to poison plants of earth. Perhaps the people of Asgard were similarly at a disadvantage? Or might it be the Frost Giant aspect that found it difficult? Or was it both? There might be a reason no one traveled to places outside the nine realms with any frequency. Perhaps only some of them were safe for their kind.

She had been standing up to this dark magic before, holding her own before the necklace. She had been adjusting, circumventing its power and beating it slowly. Recovery had been within reach even if it had been difficult. Now it seemed she knew why her recovery had been slow. Fighting an unknown force while weakened would be a bit difficult. However, she had been winning. Perhaps, given time and rest, she would out match the necklace and be utterly free in every sense; free to roam and free to be thought helpless.

"I do not need you to intervene any more than I needed the Prince. I can fight my own battles." Loki lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, empowered by the understanding that she had been doing remarkably well up until that day. "I have endured worse without acts of mercy." She only needed rest to win! She would have the upper hand to do as she wished if she could simply do as she already had been.

"My dear, you are ill and being made worse by that stone. As a healer I cannot remain silent." His jaw had tightened rather obviously.

"You will say nothing to the king. I am well capable of enduring. I will adapt and learn as I must. If you say I would have been worn down eventually, better to have it done with quickly for I shall not survive your world if I cannot be strong."

Alandaer frowned and squared his shoulders, "I cannot agree nor have I any intention to. I am not in the habit of ignoring risks to those under my care." He sounded terribly stiff.

"And I am not in the habit of being disobeyed." A lie spoken very much like the truth, her best skill, of course.

He arched his brows, jerking his chin aloft, "Then you shall learn to be content when I do so." With that he glided away to his table of herbs and tools, clearly marking the end of the discussion.

Frigga had visited this would be none capable of convincing her otherwise. The only question would be whether Frigga influenced them or they her.

"Perhaps we could compromise?" She ventured sweetly but he did not look up from his plants, "You continue giving me grass water tea and anything else you wish, holding off telling the Elvenking unless my condition worsens. Each of us could learn in that regard and risk nothing. Surely you are curious to see how you might preserve me against it for this could potentially help you heal others against similar exposure...and allowing you study of a race unknown to you." She was being terribly convincing, she thought. "What say you to this?"

His dark eyes flicked up only a moment. "It is not 'grass water tea' for one thing."

Loki's shoulders sagged and her head dropped to the back of the chair, which she instantly regretted when it reminded her how much her temples throbbed. The conversation had made her forget a bit about how she felt.

The tools in his hands smacked the wooden counter top before he shook a finger in her direction, "Second! How do you think I could ever justify risking your health simply to study what might or might not kill you? What healer could do such a thing? Risking a life entrusted them?"

Oh, he was breathing harder. Shaking slightly. She could almost swear the red in his long hair brightens a bit. Angry, it seemed, but her tongue raced ahead anyway, "I could list them off in order but you would not be familiar with the names. It is common practice enough; risk one life to learn to save others. Presented a volunteer, I know none that would not jump at the chance to learn."

Alandaer was still, utterly stilI, staring wide eyed at her as if she had grown a second head. It took him a long moment to answer but when he did he sounded aghast and perhaps devastated, "Then you have seen a poor sampling. If one cannot save the life entrusted to them, or at least try with all they have within them, ignoring the life in hand for a curiosity even well intended, they are of a colder nature than should be devoted to healing. Life is too precious to play games with or to risk."

By the Norns... Loki swallowed hard. The man before her was one with a truly good heart. The scars took on a new meaning now, offering her better guess at how he obtained them. She could see him rushing into a battle, risking life and limb to rescue some poor fallen creature. An idealist that believed in the greater good and moral codes, of goodness in the face of evil. There were few good, really good in the universe, and she was unlucky enough to find one now when she needed any normal creature that could be corrupted and made pliant.

She would need to revise her words, "Then permit me a few days before you reveal my pitiful weakness. Not enough to risk permanent damage but enough for me to gain peace of mind."

* * *

Wide open tiers looked out masterfully over the lower levels. The ceiling fluttered with the light of flame and torch reflected in crystal embedded in rock. It was a glorious sight but one he had become used to seeing and now overlooked. Much had been overlooked of late, he believed. The prince had become complacent.

Perhaps he could blame his companionship with Tauriel for that, the way they inadvertently became rather codependent, but there was more to it than that. His reactions had been strong and brash, thinking too little and acting too swiftly.

He leaned both elbows on the railing, staring below and seeing little. Though his body was there his mind was far away, in the forest and in the medical room, even in the hallways of a lost city, but not with his body.

Even with the threat of a dragon on the horizon and monsters in the forest, the dangers had all become familiar. He knew orcs and spiders, knew how they moved, and knew how to kill them. They were familiar and he put no effort forth in dealing with them. His father and the castle beneath the surface were a fortress he no longer believed could be shaken and that had made him feel so very safe.

The arrival of the alien queen changed all that and stole his sense of security from him, and that had made him brash; it made Tauriel so as well. They stopped thinking as warriors and thought more like frightened children. Things could not continue on as such. Loki was cunning and they could be no less cunning than she, if indeed she was an enemy. Even that was a source of uncertainty and it was highly uncomfortable.

Legolas watched silently as an older ellon sparred carefully with a younger, teaching the youth with each slow swing. The click of wooden weapons was a steady and constant sound to fill the otherwise silent space. On occasion Legolas had taken the part of teacher but he always found it a challenge to actively pull each and every attack, trying to play the enemy while breaking down every move. He liked having tricks, not so much teaching them.

Loki seemed to like tricks as well and he no longer knew if that would be their undoing or their salvation. He sighed deep in his chest as he worked a small blade between his fingers, wishing for answers he did not think would arrive.

"Such a pensive sound you make, my child." Thranduil moved in silence down the steps, elegant robes drifting lazily in his wake, "Are you not happy to be sleeping in your own bed again?"

Legolas fixed his eyes ahead stubbornly, "I was only thinking what a poor instructor I have made when I attempted to teach younglings in the past."

"Those with natural ability find it harder to teach for it comes easily to them where others might struggle. You were rarely without a bow in hand from the time you could walk, and down from the trees even less. You have something that cannot be taught." It felt like being soothed as a child when his father spoke in such a gentle voice, soothing any insecurity; perhaps he had soothed insecurity to often in the past and never left room for growth.

"There are things I am not so gifted in but I must try to learn them none the less. Lacking innate skill is no reason not to try." Legolas was not fully sure what he was saying anymore, only that his frustration was building into a need to be contrary.

"Indeed, that is true. We must strive to be better in all things, be all things in order that we never be caught at a disadvantage... like some might recently have learned. A bit of sense is always very necessary." The intimidating, ice blue eyes were fixed below now as well, "It would appear though, our young friend is well recovered from his excitement in the dungeons." Thranduil remarked quietly as he so casually strolled up beside his son.

So many meanings hiding in his father's words but he saw no reason to linger within them. "Yes, it would seem so. Lendion is in perfect form after his little sleep, proving Loki did not lie about harming him, at least." There, he beat his father in saying so, for he knew the conversation would eventually be lead skillfully to that point; he could predict some things. Particularly when he was destined to be called out as in the wrong.

His father simply hummed in agreement, kindly not twisting the knife any deeper.

Silence stretched between them then. It was particularly uncomfortable as the ellon puzzled over exactly what he should or should not say about the evening before. Everyone in the kingdom was quite aware that the Elvenking and the wizard had spoken long into the night but they knew not what came of it. Legolas was desperate to know but he was childishly desperate to tell his own secrets. Loki did not wish word to be spread however, and part of him demanded he hold her confidence for the sake of honor; other parts argued that he should speak in light of a...lady in potential danger. Of course, Alandaer was tending her so she would be whole and hail very soon. Perhaps he might hold his tongue, keeping her confidence just this once in order to moderately pay penance for his earlier acts.

"You do not trust her, even with that proof though, do you?" Thranduil forced his son from his inner struggle with the question.

"Well..." He linked his fingers around the handle of his small throwing knife and fixed his eyes on his hands, leaning more heavily on the railing, "can you tell me you could speak of total confidence in her?"

"As a king, my duty is to offer none my full trust, for fallibility is a potential in all individuals...one must never even fully trust themselves. Too trust completely is folly in a leader."

Legolas sighed, cocking his head to one side as he shot his father a bemused smile, "I believe that answer could be simplified." His cool eyes drifted lower, back to the training, "When I listen to you, I sometimes understand why we attained our reputation with other races for double meaning in our speech."

"It is wise to speak carefully when words hold such power over our every action. The wrong words have begun wars and crumpled defenses." As was typical, the Elvenking spoke with great care, forming each word perfectly.

It was infuriating, "I am no delegation nor country of opposition," he spoke quietly before he could call back the words, "I am only your son."

With the secret plea spoken, those distant, wise eyes turned and focused with great precision on Legolas, to the point of discomfort, but then he too sighed, "I have yet to decide...but...It would be foolishness to overlook what might be a gift from the Valar."

"And if she is an agent of Sauron? What might we do then?"

"I do not believe she is his to command any more than I trust she is mine. I fear the lady can be gentled by none but herself and her own choices. To attain alliance is to win her loyalty, not to force promise from unwilling lips." The Elvenking spoke with care but there was candor within that could not be mistaken.

Legolas turned his shoulders to partly face his father, "Is that what you seek to do? To win her loyalty?" He frowned, looking away, trailing his eyes over the upper levels, "How might you do this?"

His wise eyes twinkle just a little, "Slowly." Thranduil said simply, then expanded, "by first offering her mine and seeing where it takes us."

"Allowing fate to guide?" Legolas smirked, tone light, "That sounds more like Mithrandir."

Thranduil whirled, eyes wide with indignation, though it was clear there was no true bite to his annoyance, "Bite your tongue! I will not be insulted in my own halls by my own son."

Legolas could only smile, aware that this was his father's attempt at closeness and what they once shared long ago when the world had not seemed so dark. It was bittersweet, or perhaps mostly bitter but better than nothing. Things would never be what they had been before the world began to forget the warmth of the sun or the simple beauty of starlight. The times when a smile could easily be brought not only to his father's lips but up into his eyes had withered and died like plants deprived water and sun. It was permissible to pretend at times that happiness was less difficult to come by.

* * *

Whatever was in that grass tea, fluffy bread, leaves, and whatever else Alandaer gave her, she needed to learn the mixtures because it had done wonders for her, that and the very long sleep she took in his chair. By the time morning arrived he had woken her long enough to give her more tea and more bread before she had fallen asleep again. At some point he had carried her likely snoring body to her own room, shaking her awake many hours later to give her even more things she had never tasted before.

She had not been fully awake even when he forced her to eat and drink, so she could not be sure what he had given her in total. When he slept, she had no idea, but she had obviously slept very well if her wild curls could testify. She felt much more ready to face the world after she smoothed down her hair and put on the warmest looking dress she could find. While she was not restored she felt less like a macabre doll with cut strings.

Quite fortunately she had been able to convince her kind healer she was well enough to move about and he granted her request to visit the library. The guards did not even attempt to stop her with this man at her side. There was a sense of deference simply being around him brought out and it made her wonder further about him in this world. He was kinder to her than she deserved and she told him so in a very rare moment of sentimentality. He had simply smiled self depreciating and made her sit at one of the tables.

That was where she found herself now, with a great stack of books beside her. She had picked up any with a title she could read; which she found most vexing, for there were many she could not, books with words and strange scripts she had never seen. Alandaer had informed her, his own nose deep in a book, that they kept texts from all cultures in their library, not simply eleven. He had further told her to look in Imladris if she really wanted variety. Loki had actually tried to find the Imladris section before she recalled with irritation that it was a place and not a section of shelving. She did not inform her library partner of that particular slip.

Her discoveries had not been what she had hoped. Nothing on the stone round her neck or any like it, not unless she wanted to speak with a dwarf. Those creatures were made from rock or something strange like that. They sounded enough like the dwarfs she knew of to put her off that idea. She would never see one here anyway considering elves and dwarves apparently had a few skirmishes in the past that made her doubt they would visit each other for vacations; king slaying was looked down upon in any world.

Her eyes were tired from reading and it was an unfamiliar feeling. It seemed she could read a hundred scrolls in the past without feeling the pressure holding the inner workings of her eyes. Perhaps Thor would have felt this way when his powers were taken..if he bothered to read anything in that time.

Though, for her trouble she now knew quite a bit about the Valar, enough to know they were vastly different from the Norns. The Ainur were a much kinder set of powers, especially the head and creator of the group, Eru Ilúvatar. This Eru was quite powerful if the book told it correctly and all the others, fifteen originally, fourteen after one betrayed the others, all worked toward Eru's will. Each race was favored by one of the fourteen. Elves were favored by Varda, a rather powerful queen.

Through her reading she discovered this world had Ents, which should not have surprised her as it did but it did cause her to wonder how many of those trees were more alive than expected; a topic for some other time. Still, if things were a bit different she might really considering switching to the Valar's side as far as that went. Perhaps if she did not die in the near future and stayed in the land, Varda would take her in if she kept the pointed ears.

Even so, she could see nothing on what held the forest now or what the spiders were in the history book. What she found were stories of a vanquished foe named Morgoth, formerly Melkor, most powerful of the Ainur in a dramatic sounding "War of Wrath" that also involved the fourteen Valar. Little wonder they did not visit considering they broke part of the world the last time while fighting the previous Vala.

It sounded like a tale Volstagg would tell around a camp fire; one with dragons, an evil lord, and great warriors with golden armor and flashing swords. For that very reason it bored her toward the end. Too like every great story she heard all her life about places she had never seen and wars long past.

It was simply a historic telling with little detail and no key spells listed. The powerful antagonist was locked away forever and that was the end. She had given up on the book and pushed it aside well before finishing it, too tired to bother with it on this try, deciding most of those great troubles now were probably linked but indirectly. Unless she wanted to find some wild way to let Morgoth out, which she did not, there was nothing of value to her there.

She needed spell books! Books of power and some detailed lists would not go amiss.

What she wanted to know about was this last war the Elvenking told her about. That sounded promising when he spoke of it. That had to have been where her necklace came from, she believed. Whatever power they were fighting now, that was the source of her problems.

"Valar hold no power anymore." She mused quietly, the book even started they never set those powerful feet to the planet again, staying hidden away in Valinor.

"I would not say they hold no power, but they do not attend matters personally...but that is why we have the Istalri and Balrogs in place." Alandaer had not exactly looked up but he answered the thought regardless of her desire for a response, "They are very powerful but we have not seen them since the war of Wrath and the destruction the fight with Valar and Morgoth brought about. Ilúvatar called them back after the war and they watch over us from a distance." The look in his eyes was distant, "They take various forms, typically forms similar to the race they favor most, but they are pure power. Very beautiful to look upon."

"Speaking from experience?" She ask playfully, but was shocked when he nodded, prompting her to arch a quizzical brow, "I thought the Valar had been gone so long they were near myth now."

Alandaer scoffed, "Hardly a myth but some were near enough to that battle to have seen them."

Loki cocked her head, narrowing her eyes in scrutiny, "Precisely how old are you, if it is not too improper to ask?"

His dark eyes glittered like a crystal, playful and sly, "Old enough...older than the king, at any rate."

Her green eyes took a turn down at the book in her lap. Older than Thranduil, was it? How old was the Elvenking, exactly? How many had been around for this old war? Was Thranduil there for that earth shattering event that seemed to have been the catalyst for the wars to date? Dragons and a god, his servants, and a monster lord...sounded like one of Odin's bedtime stories.

When her eyes tried to focus on him, a brief moment of dizziness swirled her vision, making a distinct discomfort known behind her eyes that she tried to blink away. She knew her eyes were dilated in their attempt to correct the problem, giving her struggle away to someone of his skill set, letting him read the blooming ache in her skull; it mattered little, she would give him not one inch willingly. A few thousand years of learning the hard way to reveal not one weakness, always the picture of breeding and effortless poise, at this point she was quite convincing, enough that she might be able to hold back his speculation. Other occasions had brought her opportunity to fool a healer, or the less pleasant alternatives as well, covering pain and weakness.

The fuzzy feeling tingled at the forefront of her mind, making her feel weaker and less tuned but being at a disadvantage never stopped her before. She offered an impish, coy smile before speaking, "Do elaborate, my good sir?"

Alandaer smiled, casting a look to her and then behind her, "Age is irrelevant once one reaches particular numbers. We are old enough, and saw much, making us wise old creatures."

"If you speak of age, do include only yourself, lord Alandaer. I do not consider myself among the first awakened, if you please." The Elvenking's voice made Loki snap her book down on the table, more startled than she would admit but she refused to turn around.

"Do you imply I was one of the first?" Alandaer scoffed, wrinkling his brow with playful disapproval.

"I believe he implies you were alive to see Are a formed." Legolas interjected, the cunning grin on his lips evident in his voice.

Alandaer feigned indignation, "Any could seem old to a couple of young, newly bloomed flowers like you two, whereas the lady and I are more enlightened."

Legolas barked a rather undignified laugh, "Newly bloomed flowers? I did not think anyone could hear us at the table last night."

Alandaer lifted his chin, the picture of a wise dignitary, "I make it a point to listen any time our price has the look of an elfling stealing honey for it brings trouble and disturbance...but when the king looks similarly, there is...much reason to listen and avoid chaos."

It was interesting to see the open, playful mockery passing freely between what she was beginning to suspect were the most powerful elves in this particular kingdom. Alandaer seemed indomitable to anyone, a but like the Elvenking in that way. They were powerful in the art of magic as well, though Legolas was probably lesser so.

When she forced herself to look into Thranduil's face she was unsurprised to find him watching her in turn but she was surprised by the look of ease he had about him. The healer was a worker of great magic if he could unwind the tension from the king. Seeing the relaxed way he stood, she was suddenly aware of the fact that she had yet to see anyone able to remain ridged around the warmth of the gentle elf. It was some form of healing, she believed, some tuned art for the most powerful. His voice perhaps? She had read that the elves used sound and music as one of their main conductors of their power.

Little wonder she was so calm around this healer. Alandaer was a breathing tangle of power in constant motion, one none could avoid being taken in by. Fortunate he was on their side.

Thranduil placed himself into a seat beside her and it was the closest to dropping into a chair as she had witnessed from him, further supporting her speculation. "I fail to see why you are suspicious in regards to me." Thranduil was clearly being playful, it was evident in his voice, "You know I was well behaved in my youth, the picture of propriety."

Alandaer cocked one sceptical brow, "More like charming enough to talk your way out of trouble... I think, than a picture of... propriety. A picture of a cunning young mind, I would say."

"Adar would never dream of being cunning, he is too forthcoming for such things." Legolas rocked on his heels, hiding a smile.

"See here, my child," Thranduil arched his chin into the air with put on umbrage, "I know when you are being insincere. Do not think me above sending you to your room."

Legolas winced, "I should like it if you would not do so. I have only the deepest belief in the steadfastness of your youthful self, Adar. If none believe you, I shall."

Alandaer lifted his book as if it were a glass of wine to toast with, "You have taught him well, as expected of a silver tongued conspirator like yourself."

In the present situation, Loki could not even bring herself to flinch at those words, thinking only so briefly of the insults she used to find associated with herself. They did not hate such things. Words, here, were a known weapon as much as any sword. This was not Asgard and she was slowly beginning to remember that.

Thranduil looked to her again, seeming to have taken note of her silence, " And you, my lady? Do you believe in my honorable youth?"

Loki spoke quite honestly, smiling a light, airy turn of her lips, "For the most part, yes. Though none can claim honestly to have been perfect at all times."

The Elvenking cocked his head, resting an elbow on the table, "None save my perfect, well behaved son. The very definition of obedience and commonsense." The side eyed look was scolding but still not overtly so.

Legolas chuckled guiltily, "I strive for perfection, of course, to live up to my father's flawless reputation."

Alandaer clicked his tongue to chastise, "The obsequious waxing is becoming too much for me, I could not hope to match the masters before me...so I shall leave you...to your poetry and pleonastic lines."

Thranduil chuckled low and almost dark, "You should not lie so obviously when I believe we all know your skill with words."

Loki's emerald eyes snapped to the doorway when she caught a flicker of the characteristic metal hue the guards perpetually wore. She swallowed, her pleasant mood dwindling like a flame deprived of air as she watched them shift into place at the door, hidden but not totally unseen. It reminded her of her reality and bitterness twinkle in the back of her thoughts.

The smile Alandaer offered was tinged with equal parts gentle and cunning as he slid to his feet like a liquid, always seamless, "Be that as it may, there are those of us that have work to complete."

With his departure nearing, Loki was compelled to hang onto him a moment longer, "Thank you, for your kindness and for taking the time to guide me about." She could think of nothing else to say in this case but it was pleasant to be under his spell.

Book still cupped in one hand, the healer reached down with the other to gently squeeze her hand in his warm touch, "It was my genuine pleasure, lady Loki."

With only that the pristine white of his robes swirled from the room to leave them all staring after. It felt like something covering them in safety was pulled away like a blanket removed to leave a body exposed to the cold morning air of winter. She supposed it was time now for awkward silence, but she should have known better.

"Well, that leaves us to be your new and most humble guides." Thranduil stated lightly, still mainly seeming to be under the relaxation spell she firmly believed the healer spread forth.

It was time again to act for her audience, brief reprieve over now that the royal company was with her. With Alandaer they looked at him, ignoring her to a majority. With the king and heir, the eyes returned to focus with force lest she suddenly turn violent and endanger their ruler. They were protective as ever and newly alert. For whatever reason they did not worry about the safety of the healer, a trust likely won through great feats, but a king was different; still battle proven, she felt sure, but a king was as much the responsibility of all his army as he was responsible for them.

She turned her smile to the shy end and nodded demurely, "A fine set you two make. I will be the safest girl in all the realm with two strong creatures like you at my side."

Legolas shifted, seeming uncomfortable with the praise, or perhaps the delivery, "Shall we be off then?" He prompted with a look between she and his father.

Thranduil stood easily, though a bit on the side of stiffly, "We must take you for the tour, but I will be sure to return you here later."

Reality had fallen back into place, replacing the surreal substitute of peace.

Hint noted, Loki set aside her books on the table with care, hoping they would be there still when next she was allowed a visit. When she stood and faced them her smile was bright as she could make it, even if she could not force light into her eyes, "Lead on, kind sirs, please, for I am your willing and waiting audience."

The Elvenking offered his arm to her and she did not hesitate to accept it, fitting herself easily to his side. It was comfortable there with him the way it has not been when she had taken the arm of others like Legolas. Were she to be blinded she thought she would trust Thranduil as her guide for the care he took in his every move. She could cling to him, fingers curled into the thick and plush fabric of his sleeve, hold not unlike a terrified child clinging the a stuffed toy in the dark.

The guards were an organism, beside the door but also clinging within the walls like a fungus. Inescapable. They had her now, knew her signature like a dog with a scent. They were everywhere. Perhaps it was also the very structure itself, the living aspect of its makeup that watched her. It was more noticeable now that she was helpless to deflect it.

When Thranduil's eyes flicked to her she could see the understanding, see that he noticed what onlookers could not. There was no doubt he could feel the minuscule trembling in her fingers through the bunched material. His metallic eyes turned forward just as quickly, but his free hand moved up to cover hers at his arm, squeezing just slightly. It occurred to her that he was hiding the trembling for her, fluidly shielding her from any that might notice.

Her eyes stung suddenly and she blinked to clear away the sign of pathetic gratitude driven weakness cropping up unbidden. Small acts of kindness were no reason for the knot in her throat. It seemed she had been growing awfully soft. The healer's doing, something residual from his treatment, no doubt. It would not be that simple to turn her into one of the weak minded, weak eyed maidens in court, however. She was of a very different nature than that...cold as her blood attributes. None would make her soft, not even the dark force trying to wring the life from her. She was an a victor for she had lived this long against all odds since the day she was born, she had overcome them all. They did not realize how strong she was, or perhaps did not understand the depth of her rage driven goals.

Loki's head tilted to the side, curls tickling her check, when she realized Legolas had been speaking, giving her some obscure fact about the castle. She hummed to prove she was listening even though she had no idea what had been said.

"But we built additions to the original structure, expanding and improving. Adar was the one that directed the water to fall as it does now." Legolas continued proudly.

"Really?" She raised a brow to indicate she was impressed, "I did not know I was in the company of such brilliant minds."

Thranduil huffed what could have been undignified as far as noises had it come from another, but it still sounded regal, "Flattery is always welcome but you could have extended the list of praising words if you intend to make it so obvious."

"**Obvious?**" She leaned away from hms slightly, an indignant twist to her features, "Well," she huffed back, shaking her head a fraction, "insults are not always welcome, I would thank you to note."

"Oh, yes, noted." He stated blandly without looking at her but still obviously having a full awareness of her every expression somehow.

"Though the land was of a more vast territory once, we still control a great expanse of ground." Legolas continued, ignoring the exchange wholeheartedly.

The sound of metal armor set her teeth to grind but she hid it behind a smile, trying to ignore everything but conversation, "And you let none enter without full documentation, a king's seal, and perhaps a trunk of spoils as tribute." She cast the price a temptress' simper.

That strong jaw jerked up with mild irritation he attempted to push aside, "The trunk might be sufficient if it were large enough."

Loki laughed, more than she really felt, but it was for the show. "I shall keep that in mind."

Her free hand locked into her flowing, silken skirt to force its radiant sheen to be more noticeable and fluid, perhaps hypnotic. The light was captured and passed around over the surface of the fabric do she played with the motion to distract herself. She had noticed that the house elves, servants, ladies in waiting or what have you, seemed to be taking care to provide her with very nice garments; taking it a step father and offering her fabrics of various shades of green with golden accents. They had taken note of her dress and seemed to have taken it for her standard in royal colors. They were surely guessing and obviously ignored her leather and armor pieces, but it did what she imagined they intended, which was make her feel more relaxed with things of a familiar nature.

This dress had her crest sewn into the belt, meaning they had indeed looked at her original attire. She had not noticed it until she was seated in the library, but it was there. After the previous decree, she had a feeling it was a gesture of some kind. Appeasement of some sort or a reminder to leave as soon as possible. It mattered very little what the meaning was in the end. There were more pressing things to worry over, more enemies to contend than she cared to ponder. Chaos was on her side, however, and chaos would always live on to devour a crowd.

A set of winding steps was before her after a moment of exploration and the king escorted her up, and up, with the prince and a growing number of guards trailing behind. The openness of the steps was still unsettling, mostly for how simple it would be from them to push her and end her while she was weakened. Her skirts dragged and caught at any imperfections in the rock, tugging at her waist for a distraction. She focused on that feeling and the touch of her escort's fingers to keep herself from turning to count the guards she was now in perfect range of, back a ready target offered up as a gift to. It was a slight comfort to remind herself that Thranduil would allow nothing of the kind and she could additionally defend herself even without power. She reminded herself that lacking magic did not mean she was helpless it simply meant she must work harder.

Though, the mere thought of her inhibitor made her neck burn where it touched her like a hot iron and it was harder to breathe again. This time it was psychosomatic of course, she was sure. Even so, she felt hot and cold all at once, shivering and in desperate need of air. The hold on her hand tightened, bringing her back from her own mind a little so she could focus on controlling the impulses. Though he might not be able to read her mind so far as she knew, he was very good at reading her all the same.

"I thought you might like to see something." He whispered almost directly into her ear and the heat of his breath made her shiver again.

She said nothing as they reached the top of the staircase but her eyes landed almost instantly on the window. Her arms slid away from him and he let her go when she moved carefully toward the open portal into the outside world. They were high, with a view over the trees and out into the vast skyline, the peak of a mountain and rivers in view. Without even knowing she would, she was leaning out and breathing deep. The air was no better than what was inside, perhaps lesser, but it was different. The caged feeling lifted slightly with the knowledge that there were windows to be found and ways to escape, though she might not be wise to take any of them they were still in existence. There were humans outside though, the books said, so if they survived, she surely could. Perhaps she might climb out the window and find a settlement to hide in; shed the elven appearance and pretend to be a mere mortal with a curse necklace. There might even be a way for humans to remove it for all she knew. Those thoughts could be saved for another time.

"It's rather lovely." She said at last when the king settled in beside her like a bird landing on a branch.

"In its own way, yes, it is. There are times it is pleasant to look at it from above."

"What is that mountain?" She inquired without seeming over interested.

Thranduil turned on one heel and pointed to a map she had not even noticed, prominent as it was, "It was known as Erebor once, but now it is commonly called the Lonely Mountain."

Her eyes focused on the pointed peek his finger rested at and the figure of a dragon hovering over it, "Is the dragon real or a bit of creative imagery?"

The Elvenking's eyes narrowed as he stared at the little figure, "Real, unfortunately. One of the last dragons in our world but no less powerful for it."

"Perhaps more powerful if he is one of the last. Cunning at least to have survived the likes of elves." Loki stated lightly but was quickly aware that her humor fell mostly flat, "But perhaps not?" She ventured, attempting to feel her way around what tense shoulders and clenched jaw told her was a sour topic.

"No, you are correct. Smaug is cunning and powerful but a thorn in Arda's side for it. He has destroyed nations for his horde and could do so again at any moment he wishes." The humor was gone from those eyes and she was beginning to gain more understanding of the situation the city underground might be facing with a few enemies like that.

He was angry or upset by this issue and she did not know why. Something in her twisted at the thought of being the cause, needed to make it stop for her own peace of mind. All she really needed was to be impulsive and make him forget, distract him with anything at all she thought to do. Not thinking overly hard about an action worked best, she she simply leaned forward.

Loki linked her fingers onto his coiled shoulder and rested her chin on her hands, "Do you wish me to slay your dragon, my lord? I have faced them before, you know, and I could play your knight, if you wish." She had made every word sultry and quiet for his ears alone, though she could see them all nearly crawling from their skin and armor at just how close she was to the king.

The deep scowl lifted from the king's brow and he actually smirked, "I believe that would cast me into the role of the damsel in the tower, no? Or would it be Legolas..." he chuckled very quietly, "or more likely, the displaced King Under the Mountain." He turned in her grasp and took both her hands into his, rising to her unspoken challenge with no effort, leaning in and whispering, "Perhaps you will be. I know not just yet. Perhaps you were meant to save us, my lady. We shall see what the Valar have set out."

He had actually thrown her off, behaving in none of the typical or expected ways. For a moment she only stared into his eyes, trying to understand what he was telling her. Surely he had something in mind, some meaning hiding in the words. A slight reveal of his true intent, perhaps? All along she had known he needed her for something and the dragon might have been the beginning of her tasks. If it was she hoped he took the necklace away before she sent her after it. So far as she knew all dragons had a bit of magic somewhere in their abilities and she would be much at a disadvantage if she had none. Though the figure depicted could clearly breathe fire, so that was one part right there. Fire and ice. It could almost make her laugh it was was funny at all. Fire was deadly but so was ice. Arda had far too many problems on their hands it seemed. But what made him think she would save them and not add to their list of problems? She was nothing more than a new monster.

She frowned, looking away from his face to trail a wrinkle in his garment with her eyes, "I am not sure I know what you mean."

Legolas stepped forward, mouth open to speak something; it was surprising he remained silent as long as he had; but a lithe little figure cut in front of him.

Cíldaer looked flustered and perhaps out of his depth when he half yelled, half whispered, "Mithrandir, your majesty..."

Loki might never have moved away from anyone as swiftly as she stepped away from Thranduil, dropping her hands to her sides when she saw a pointed gray hat inching up the steps. She did not desire the wizard to see her so familiar with the Elvenking though she did not know why. It felt like a thing to hide. She did not want to play games the same with that man as she did with the guards. Being near the king made them wild with worry but she shied away from it in regards to the Maia the way she would have had Heimdall walked into the room.

The wizard was already smiling when he came into view but that was not exactly a surprise. His staff was in hand and he used it to lazily help him up the remaining steps. His gray robes were dirt stained at the hem but she supposed that might have been there the evening before without her noticing. Though perhaps he had been exploring the castle without any one noticing, which she would not be surprised by in the least. His hair looked like it might have been washed during the night though, which was an improvement, though not a great one.

Watery gray-blue eyes overlooked all figures in the room and fell on the map featured proudly on the wall instead, "Immaculate watch you keep on the lands, Thranduil, simply unerring! You always have maps as up to date as Imladris, I should say!"

"Thank you, Mithrandir." He seemed anything but complimented but the Elvenking nodded anyway, watching every slight move the Maia made as he sidled up to look at the map.

The wizard leaned forward, too close really, as if his eyes were too old to read letters well, but even Loki saw it for a faint, "Such detail. One can trust you to be careful in all things." Gandalf hummed pleasantly.

Thranduil linked his arms behind his back, spine stiff and impossibly straight, "It is wise to be in this age, is it not? Lest one overlooks grave error and be taken over in fire and spreading death. Better to be vigilant than to let Orc armies slip in. Focus is key when there are fell things in the air, is that not so?" All of that was directed at something but it was hard to say what.

Mithrandir turned to face the king then, brows raised playfully, "No one can focus one everything at once. At times, things slip by unnoticed. It is wise to build strong grouping of outside alliances to prevent being cornered, I should think..." the pipe was suddenly puffed at before the old man continued, "Is that not also true?"

The regal incline of the head was every drop a kingly way of saying they would rather imprison you than continue a conversation, "If alliances are of a worthwhile nature. Otherwise you simply put an enemy to your back to ensure his ease in stabbing you."

Loki perched on the table, ignoring the other maps and papers scattered atop it, "What brings you up here then, Gandalf?" It was time, she thought, to step in.

The wizard turned to her, the darker tilt to his face vanishing when he smiled from her, "Ah, wonderful that you should bring it up, my lady! I did have something in mind, regarding you, as a matter of fact!"

Oh, lovely, just what she had wanted to hear. That was what she gained for kindness.

"To do with her?" Legolas finally stepped up as well, sliding around Cíldaer's more slender figure.

Poor little thing was not cut out to deal with wizards, she thought. The way his shoulders were hunched as far as they could go and everything in his posture indicated he was trying to be small to avoid being noticed reiterated that. He was standing as close to the king and prince as possible to protect them, obviously, what with a sword at his belt and bow on his back, but he was also as far from Gandalf as possible. It was interesting that he was closer to her than the Maia, like she was less of a threat or adversely that she was more of a threat to the king; it was hard to decide which was true. Some time she would need a bit more information on that one, the replacement for Tauriel. That would be for a later time.

Loki crossed her arms, head tilted up proudly, challenging them all to do their worst or whatever they had planned.

"Well, yes." Mithrandir puffed at his pipe once again, intentionally not elaborating.

"What plans did you have regarding the lady?" Legolas could almost be mistaken for worried about her safety but she knew he was more worried about the trouble she could cause all of them if left alone with a troublesome Maia.

"Well, I had a thought... perhaps, since I have not been privileged with time to be acquainted with her, we might all go on an excursion to give me opportunity to visit with each of you at once." Mithrandir was smiling in that way he seemed to have that simply screamed of hidden intent.

Loki could actually feel Thranduil tense as her side, though gave no indication besides the sensation, features phlegmatic as ever, "An excursion, you say? What might this entail? Or perhaps a more precise question would be to ask how much trouble you shall inflict upon me and my company." He spoke every word with a relaxed sense and no hints of glare or smile to help others read behind the words.

The wizard laughed heartily anyway, taking it as he wished to, "You always have been suspicious, my lord, assuming I mean to bring calamity to you door at every turn."

With this, Thranduil smiled just slightly but she did not think it fully felt, "Am I incorrect? Experience is a great teacher, you know."

Mithrandir continued to grin, wrinkles deepening from it, "I never intend calamity, let us say. Perhaps it has had occasion to crop up, however. Still, I see no harm to be had in going for a ride around the grounds."

For some reason, perhaps it was the Elvenking's tension, she felt this would end rather badly. Something gave her an ill feeling she did not have occasion to ignore for it served her well over time. It was the same feeling she had before Tauriel sprung her trap. Things seemed innocent enough but she knew they had potential to turn like the clouds on a once clear day could turn to rain.

"Of course, the grounds are perfectly secure." Thranduil dipped his head in a dignified nod but she knew he had no choice if he intended to hold fast to secrets.

The wizard was testing them all and the wise king knew it full well. Legolas knew as well for the downcast of his eyes and knot in his brow spoke volumes that his total silence had not. Elves were secretive and did not share easily with anyone, wizard or otherwise. She was learning much about the culture within the walls. She was also learning to be very wary of Wizards in this world and should she find any others, she would know to avoid them at all possible cost. As a being of chaos, she could spot trouble well enough, and this was clearly a valid source. They should have taken her back to her rooms, or she should have begged to accompany Alandaer in whatever he might have been going to do.

* * *

AN:This chapter was more dedicated to character building and some stage setting for what is to come. There will be much mischief ahead and more trouble, I mean, Gandalf is here and we know he always brings trouble. The title tells you that. Not sure what else to say about it.

Sorry for slow update. Still typing on my phone and it takes forever! I'm a poor student so no new computer right now. I know I could use my library computer, but also no, not a place I can get my muse working. Plus, I don't want anyone to find out what I really do when they think I'm such a good student, always writing papers. Nope! I'm trying hard though! I'm trying to write for you but it's just not the same, plus autocorrect gets me constantly! I go back to edit and have no idea what parsnips have to do with my scene, or more, what the jack I was trying to say the first time! So I get annoyed, and frustrated, which makes me put the phone down, meaning it takes longer sorry. I do have work done on other chapters though, several ahead, so I might finish editing them and finishing them off soon. Cross your fingers I guess


	14. Frost

~=Eitho nin=~

~Aid Me~

Frost

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Gandalf, Mirkwood

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

_AN: Try listening to Kill me Heal me by Skillet and Alive by Sia __(Alive might be my headcannon song for Lady Loki from now on)_

_Also, before diving in, I want to explain a little. Someone had said something earlier to me about thinking I'm making Loki pathetic, basically I think. You know, wtf, she's a goddess, why is she having problems (because she's Loki and that's all Loki ever has). And it's cool if any of you don't like my reasoning, but I did want to clear it up. Loki is a goddess, yes, but she is up against beings equal to her in strength now, not against humans, she has yet to even see a human; these are elves and wizards, and also one of the most powerful evils of Arda that has put a beat down on even Gandalf... so I really don't think I'm weakening her, just being realistic (realistic...in a fantasy story, yeah). I also can't write a character without flaws. I hate reading stories where the main good OR bad character has absolutely no flaws or weaknesses. Life doesn't work like that and I find it hard to relate to a story where the characters never take a hit, never have issues with anything, never make a mistake. I write flawed characters, ones that mess up and might not be stable all the time. That's what I relate to? I guess? That's what makes a character fleshy to me? But all these characters are flawed and screw up, and will keep doing so. If you hate it, feel free to tell me, but I just write how I think they would behave if they were in these situations judging by what I see in their character. Hope that helped explain why I do it this way?_

* * *

There was no mistaking the situation for anything of an innocent nature, not when she looked into the wrinkled face with too knowing eyes. There was something the old man was brewing within that tired looking head that was betrayed totally by those lively eyes. Even if Loki knew nothing about him she would be able to see it, see him for what he was. Being a born troublemaker herself, she could spot things like that. There was a look about the ones that caused disturbances in the natural flow of things. People like them were the tools of chaos, harbingers of disorder and anarchy.

Of course, this elderly troublemaker had no way to know she was an embodiment of chaos, born to bring as much trouble back as was thrown at her. The man was supposed to be a grand being but she saw no reason a goddess could not handle a wizard's mischief. Perhaps they were similar, in fact, she thought they might well be on some level, but that was meaningless so long as they were operating under different purposes.

The guards were loud as they marched down the steps, armor tinkling like breaking crystal for every move. No one spoke but Loki was watching all of them closely. Thranduil and Legolas looked a bit like they were following the pointed hat to imminent death full of violence and carnage. She could hope that was not to be the case but she really could not be sure in this world she had arrived in. If the world was as strange as those she had met, it was little wonder they were desperate. Though she was very sure she had no intention of playing the old man's intended game, at least not his way.

Her feet hit the floor and she decided it was time to take a bit more active place in the proceedings. Why allow anyone to lead her anywhere, least of all a trap, without setting down a few snares of her own? Meekly following had never really been her strongest attribute as a lady, much to the horror of most stuffy men and ladies at court. While she could pretend to be contrite and easily lead, it was not in her nature to remain so forever.

Thanks to whatever healing that had been administered, she felt more like herself, more on equal ground with the group than she had the day before. Without the sick feeling like death hanging over her, she felt ready to fight, trickster style. Even if she had to remind herself a few time that she was not weak simply because she had lost her power, she knew it was true. Never in her life had she been one of the wilting-flower court maidens. Life might have been cruel to her but at least it had made her into a fighter.

Loki swayed her hips as she walked, exaggerating her smile to emphasize her unspoken challenge as she linked her arm with the Maia's to force him to escort her, "Really, my wizard friend," she kept her voice low to avoid being heard by very many, impressed that her new escort had not even flinched at her forwardness, "if you wished so greatly to be in my company you could have simply sent me a message...perhaps under the cover of darkness, asking me to meet you. I would have been only too happy to hold court in the company of such a great man of legend."

When he huffed in something of a laugh, she swore there might have been just a little color in his cheeks, "You flatter me, but I am only an old man given to whims. I generally think it kinder to a lady if she is provided better looking men to be in company with than my tired old face alone."

There was a keen prickling of her senses as the magic flowed from him to swirl around her threateningly, waiting to squeeze and constrict if she moved too quickly to escape it. Needles pricked at her skin and made her flesh want to crawl but she ignored it and continued to smile, well aware that she needed to focus, had to focus. Showing weakness would put an end to everything at a point like this. There was no choice but to play the game and try to win, which she could not do if she gave away a pressure point. The worse the situation was the more she needed to smile, she knew that.

His arm felt for all the world like it was burning her fingers and she knew there would be no signs if she were to actually look at her hand. The magic sensed a threat in her as much as the necklace likely did and it reacted with no little amount of hostility. Perhaps the magic in him was responding just as much to the power of the necklace as to her though. Her eyes drifted over him and his staff a moment in contemplation when she realized she had not previously considered the possibility. A suppressor was a threat to any with powers and would it not be natural for it to respond to a threat whether the wizard knew or not?

It mattered little what he knew, she reminded herself when she forced her smile to widen and a laugh to bubble up. "You do not give yourself accurate credit." It played no relevant part in her actions if he knew anything at all.

"An old man knows well enough that a creature full of youthful energy would rather be surrounded with far more vigor than I can produce. I am better conversation than partner for excursions." He said modestly.

She leaned in, bumping shoulders with him even though it shot a spark down her arm that nearly made her flinch, "Again, you are too modest, I think. Your stories would indicate all the most exciting events are centered around you, thus making you likewise exciting."

He smiled brightly, a new twinkle in his eye, "Well, I suppose I have my moments."

Loki hummed in agreement before pressing on, "Where will you be taking us then? Surely you have something in mind? Being so keen to leave, no doubt you have some reason."

"Spending time with old and new friends is not a reason enough to offer?" The wizard was making a try for coy but it missed its mark.

The sigh announced the prince even before he had drawn near at her side, clearly no more convinced of the truth of that answer than anyone else, "Pardon, if I may? But should the lady not be allowed to change into riding attire before we depart? What she wears now will be impractical for a journey." He shot a pointed and disapproving glance at his father's cloak as well but refrained from commenting on its equal disadvantages.

Loki took the opportunity to drop away from the Istari, intensely relieved when the touch was gone, "I was nearly ready to bring up that very issue, my lord, thank you!" It took effort not to rub at the tingling in her skin where she had been exposed.

Propriety dictated that she wait for the king and the honored guest to dismiss her. She waited for neither, sauntering her way down the nearest hall, nodding only halfheartedly when ascent was directed to her retreating back. Her arm hung limply at her side, tingling and throbbing in indication that use of it would be slow to return. If it had not returned by the time they set off, riding might be challenging.

Loki was surprised when she felt as well as heard someone rushing up behind her, keeping pace.

"You are ill, my lady!" Legolas sounded so grave, "I do not think a ride through treacherous lands is conducive to your recovery."

Loki turned toward him, slowing her steps before smiling broadly and patted his arm lightly, "You worry too much. I think a ride is exactly what I need! I am not one to be kept quiet long." When he still followed she whispered, "besides, if you are most fortunate, we might see a pretty Elleth with red hair."

Legolas stuttered something she could not understand, a new language perhaps, before he gathered himself, "You are as stubborn as my father. Little wonder you get along." He shook his head in resignation, "But you must stay to the path we show you and step not a toe from it. The woods defend themselves from those they do not know as a natural defense."

"I shall keep that well in mind, do not fret so, my prince, lest you risk sounding like your father in that respect as well." She only just held back a laugh at the scowl he sent her.

"Be that as it may, I still protest against this. I feel no sense of ease at the prospect of you growing worse while we are well away from the halls." The ellon sounded very petulant and it nearly made her laugh.

"Believe me, I have ridden through much worse. It takes quite a lot to successfully render me incapable of quenching curiosity." She smiled sweetly for him again, but her words were sardonic, "Besides, the first thing a ruler must learn is that nothing is ever going to be about your comfort or desire, it is always for the comfort of others. There are no luxuries afforded for disappointing our public. The life and death of a ruling family is always wrapped around their people. Their health does not matter."

The Prince was instantly stiff in the shoulders, "Are you always so grim?"

"Perhaps, or simply honest?" She shrugged and smiled secretively to herself, amused at her own question. No one ever expected honesty of her.

"I will leave you to prepare. Come to find us in the corridor when you are ready to depart."

He turned back then, silken hair swaying gently down his back. She watched the stilted way he walked and realized it was one way he revealed his frustration. The way he moved normally was very fluid and easy, contrasting the sharp, halting motion she saw now. Elves were not impervious as they believed themselves. They could be read and studied like everyone else. It gave her a smug spring to her own steps as she hurried away. It made her forget her aching arm for the most part.

She was quick to change into something she found after a bit of digging that resembled her own clothing as far as functionality. They were various shades of green and brown that would fit well with blending into the woods. The skirt was split and the boots ran high and protective where the tights might not be enough; there was also a hood just in case she really needed to hide. While she had not been plagued with chills nearly so much after her little treatment she did not suppose it could hurt. She missed her furs but she could not lament what was lost. She only hoped she did not resemble Tauriel too closely dressed as she was.

Some part of her was excited at the prospect of going with a little company. Though she did not wish to go out, the more she thought it over the better it sounded as far as potential. She could learn much with very little risk to her own safety. Out there she might be able to learn a good deal more about the world and what it contained just in the event she decided to run. If she was fortunate she could learn about the surrounding grounds and towns, the wizard would likely tell her more than she wanted or needed to know.

Additionally, she might be given a better chance to see this dark force for herself. To see it would give her better chance to notice what weaknesses it might possess. She could not be expected to hide herself away from it in fear. It was careful but she was not cowardly the way her fath-Odin believed her to be. A fight was not something she would back away from, but she also knew when to retreat. That was different from cowardice, it was calculation. A fool rushed to a fight they knew they could not win but a strategist waited and watched for openings.

* * *

Mithrandir watched Legolas and Loki as they spoke, a smirk firmly planted all the way into his wrinkled cheeks. The sight of such a look put the Elvenking instantly on edge. While he did not necessarily wish misery on the man he did not like it when he looked so merry either, such things spelled much trouble in his experience. He snapped violently from his worry when the wizard spoke.

"Might he be besotted by curiosity or by her beauty?" Mithrandir's lips twitched with effort not to grin quite so wide.

Thranduil had to fight to keep his nose from wrinkling or a growl from thundering in his throat, though he was somewhat unsure why, "He has eyes for another and could be tempted away for nothing. They bicker like children anyway. Do not try to match-make such bitter rivals, it would end badly."

"Bitter rivals, is it? They do not look so cold from here?" The Maia persisted much to Thrandil's annoyance.

"You have not seen them interact long enough. Give them a little more time and you will observe for yourself the reason I keep them apart as much as possible. They are too similar to get along."

"Ever protective and vigilant." The twinkling eyes did not fool the Elvenking into believing the wizard offered a compliment.

"It is my purpose as king and father, is it not? I must thwart a tempest where I find it brewing. You too should know of this were you not more often the instigator than the cure." The king set his chin and refused to look at the ancient man.

Mithrandir hummed thoughtfully, "Your mood soured considerably," he muttered more to himself than to his company, "Tell me then, what do you plan on doing with your guest long term? Your little elleth?"

The topic change would have been a welcome one if not for the veritable set of traps it concealed. For all the time the wizard tried to gain information from him during the night he had given up little. He had not even told the old man that the girl was from another world though he expected Mithrandir suspected something of the like, but he had simply said that she was unusual and powerful, yet to be determined as too her alliance. He had admitted the dead Orcs and power residue had belonged to her but he had been careful how much he let the present he could not afford to say much. The White Council would hear of it either way but he was set on being in control of just how much Mithrandir would be capable of passing on. In his heart of hearts he trusted the White Council as well as he trusted the darkness in his woods. The group had done him few favors over the centuries. Galadriel and Elrond least of all, though he would not trust the White wizard as far as he would trust his rival kin.

A long sigh escaped his throat and he felt better for releasing it, "I do not know. Keep her here until I have assessed her better or until she returns home."

"I forget, where was it you said she was from?" The sly old wizard interjected innocently.

Thranduil gave him a side eyed look and turned on his heels, marching toward the stables without dignifying that ill disguised fishing expedition for what it was. He would not tell even if he knew more about Asgard. Why offer information if none would be given in return? That was no way to run a kingdom.

* * *

Silent as death, or simply ones trying to avoid death, the squad observed from the cover of the tree, offered little safety even in that. They had found a nest, quite a large one crawling with life and long spindly legs. Silk sacks dangled from long strands around the nest like decorative hangings for festivals, the corpses only just visible under the white mass of strings. There could be any number of adults scurrying under the surface but it would be hard to gauge from the outside. What was shocking was that they managed to hide a nest this size long enough to expand it to this degree.

This was a stronghold, clearly. It was the main nest where others had all merely been branches from the original. It was clearly old and well established, but how had it been saved? Perhas the other nests had all been made for the purpose of keeping eyes from this? It was possible. They were dark creatures but not without intelligence as Orcs were.

Tauriel curled her lip in disgust at the sight of so many young spiders just waiting to grow large enough to sew chaos. They were vulnerable now but they soon would grow strong like the parents. The challenge would be to destroy the nest completely without allowing any to escape or flee to the near castle they seemed to breed in most.

They were growing bold indeed to have built a nest in the forest and that could not be allowed. It would be very necessary to vanquish the lot lest more try to move in. The rotting shells of their kin would deter the next group that might come down, frightening them as best as could be expected.

The darkness was oppressive in the space around them, like they brought it down from the ruined castle. There was good reason to avoid the vicinity of a kingdom the elves once ruled. It was a dark place that brought only shadows and fell monsters. The elleth liked it none at all, her skin crawling just to lift her eyes to the remaining stones of that place. It was the root, the source, and one day they would have need to deal with it. Today they had a nest to clear.

It would be messy and unpleasant but they had battled much worse, though spiders were of a higher challenge than Orcs simply because they could climb just as fast and far and an elf. They could speak as well even though most could not understand the dark language they whispered. She knew the vicious sounds meant something to them. Elders had told her about them though she could not herself understand. At least Orcs she could understand.

At times she wished she could go long stretches without encountering them. Was it so much to ask that they stay in the ruins?

"We must fall upon them quickly and quietly. They must not be allowed to escape and breed elsewhere! Once the adults are dead we will burn the nests and purge the young." Tauriel was whispering but her voice held all her loathing for those monsters. None of them cared for spiders much more than they did an Orc.

"They will try to scatter and regroup behind us or flee deeper into the woods." One of the ellon's nodded, glaring hatefully at the nest of abominations.

None of them looked forward to hunting down all the individual survivors that would flee but realistically it was bound to happen. There would be many that would escape the carnage to save their own lives rather than stay and fight. They would flee in droves that would have to be hunted over the next few days. It would be most unpleasant.

* * *

While she had taken a good many strange and exotic mounts through equally strange places, she never quite expected to find herself in such a natural version of unusual. Having a doe as her transportation had never crossed her mind but she could see the practicality of it when riding through the woods... if one could describe a twisted magical mess of trees a forest. Mithrandir was the only one astride a normal horse, if it was actually a horse, which she questioned even that at this point. The Elvenking sat upon a stag as large as she had ever seen with a rack to match; beautiful and formidable. Admittedly, her doe was far from small but still considerably lesser. Thranduil sat as high on its back as the wizard did on his white horse, Shadowfax.

The wizard talked to his horse a little too much as well, she had discovered. He seemed to think no one would notice him whispering comments to it, but he did remember the company was made up of elves, did he not? It really must have been a habit from too many long rides alone. Though, honestly, she had seen the elk exchange glances with Thranduil that were entirely too knowing, at least between an animal and master. She would not put it past an elf to actually be able to communicate with a creature of intelligence. The enormous creature seemed a bit too human, which might have been why she had decided to name it. The Elvenking never said it's name but she was mentally calling it 'Moose' from now on even if she eventually discovered its name.

Come to think of it, she might have been getting a bit silly herself. The more they road the heavier the lids of her eyes became. That feeling of drowsiness made her feel like she was swimming inside her own mind, desperately thinking of anything, focusing on anything to keep herself awake. They had not even been riding an hour when she began to feel it creeping over her. When the wizard had been engaging her in conversation it had not been so impossible to remain alert but he had drifted away to speak at length with the king, leaving her to struggle for ways to entertain a mind that wished to shut down. She should have stayed behind, thought of an excuse to keep her near a bed. Sleep would be so lovely. The thought of it made her long for the feel of a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body.

Gandalf and Thranduil were drifting farther and farther back and something still alert in be mind decided it was intentional. Why would the old man draw the king away though? Why seek to pare her off with the Prince when Mithrandir stated earlier he wished to have a conversation with her?

The rhythmic sway of the doe was not helping her stay alert, it was rocking her to sleep if anything. Her head fell forward in a momentary laps of wakefulness and she jerked her shoulders into a ridged posture to compensate, tightening her knees against the ribs of the doe. It did not prevent Legolas from shooting her a suspicious look.

He's going to tear you apart! Her inner voice reverberated through her skull like a punch. The ferocity of it surprised her into something closer to awake. Which of these men was she, or her more alert side, warning her of? There were multiple choices right down to the lowest ranked guard. None the less, she took a careful glance around. Te guards were watching her, but also the woods, focus split multiple ways. The Elvenking was offering full attention to the wizard. Mithrandir offered his attention in all directions at once, even sending her a wink when he caught her eye. That one might be the biggest threat if it was not the prince.

"My dear," the Maia called to her, "have you traveled these paths often?"

Loki turned her eyes forward and answered without offering platitude, "Well, often enough. My most recent trip was less than pleasing." Her glance at Legolas was pointed and he looked to the side rather quickly. "Though I am sure you have traveled it often, lord Gandalf."

"One must travel it if they wish to see the reclusive king, I dare say, so I travel it when ever I wish to see his cheerful face." The old man was grinning like a cat with the cream while Thranduil scowled.

"A brave one you are, Gandalf the Grey, to say such things while so near the king and his guards." She smiled softly to herself when she noticed Legolas fighting a smile.

"Or perhaps foolish." Thranduil retorted petulantly.

It was strange to see things like this occur. It spoke volumes about the king himself that any would feel safe enough to taunt him. There were few that would dare speak so with Odin; even Frigga rarely addressed him lightly or playfully, which was pitiful now that she thought of it. Still, being powerful in his own right, perhaps the wizard felt he could be excused his transgressions. Thranduil took it rather well, better than most any other royal she had seen. There was power in him and he was perfectly capable of projecting it to make others fall at his feet in fear but now he was also capable of a sort of normalcy that allowed others to behave in a real sort of way. Had it always been so or was it being drawn out of him by the Maia and Alandaer? It was freeing regardless. Different from anything she had seen from the Allfather, the biggest example in her life. Though, honestly, she doubted Laufey would have ruled with anything less than an iron fist.

She was too tired to think on things so unsettling, better stay to lighter paths of thought.

"Have you been to Imladris, my lady? There is a flower there that reminds me a great deal of you." Mithrandir chuckled merrily.

"You asked me that while we danced, I believe." Loki had no intention of stepping a toe into those dangerous waters when she was partially dulled by fatigue. "Are you growing forgetful?"

The Istari snickered like a school boy, "Ah, yes, old age I suppose it must be."

"You should show the lady what you found on your patrol, Legolas." Thranduil cut across any future conversation pitfalls, "I believe she would find it most interesting. I would like to show our other guest something as well. You may rejoin us later."

Legolas simply nodded, steering his buck onto a variant path and nudging Loki's doe to follow. Gandalf looked on with arched brows that clearly stated his lack of amusement but this was the moment the Elvenking had chosen to reestablish his unshakable authority. The air around him had changed and cooled steeply in only seconds when she chanced a glance at the regal figure. He was once again the untouchable figurehead of power. She liked seeing it return if only to be sure the cunning old man was not fully in control.

"Adar will keep him busy for a while to come. We must stay away until he sends someone after us." Legolas mumbled softly.

"Is there actually a place you discovered on patrol or was that some sort of signal?" She tightened her hold on the leather straps of the bridal, unsure how comfortable she was with breaking away from the group. If something went wrong, or worse, if something happened to the prince she knew where the blame would land. This would not be the first time similar situations had fallen into her lap.

"I found you on my last venture, along with a nest of spiders. Unless you have a burning desire to visit that place again I would have to side with this being nothing more than a manner of avoidance. Mithrandir asks too many questions of you, I suppose."

"He was at ease enough with handing me over to the Maia for a dance, why is it so different now?" She blinked owlishly, trying to keep her eyes open.

"Because it can be avoided more easily in this place than it could in a hall full of people." Legolas sighed, shaking his head, "Wizards are a troublesome group, I suppose. I think it would be simpler to speak plainly with Mithrandir but Adar is not so trusting."

"You would do well to listen to your father. I can assure you the old man has an agenda all his own." Her nose wrinkled at the thought.

Legolas paused, holding a low hanging branch up above his head and motioning her under like a gentleman, "I am aware! There is no wizard alive that could not be said about, but Gandalf is different than the others. What he does is for the best of everyone, I am sure of that. He will find the truth eventually even with our resistance."

"How can you be so sure?" Her mount plodded on, ducking under the branch with her charge like a queen.

The branch slid from his fingers as he pressed the buck back to trot at her side. "There are many of my people that trust him well. If we never trust outsiders we will surely be the ones left to fight alone in the end."

Loki could not help the scoff she let out, "You are one to speak of letting outsiders in!"

He jerked his chin aloft and glared, "I have not slit your throat yet, now have I? I too am making an effort to think of the future."

Loki hummed in answer, not bothering to further the conversation. She did not desire to argue a point neither of them held sway over, it would be pointless. He was not entirely wrong but adversely the king was also not in the wrong. Truth always seemed to fall in the middle of two sides. The right side and left side were always partially wrong. That fact made things very complex.

Her head was beginning to throb again, which was a further reason she had no wish to argue needlessly. It was likely the unpleasant company giving her the headache in the first place. While she no longer hated the whelp, she did not feel exactly friendly with him either. There was effort being made by both of them as was proven by the simple fact that they were not battling with more than words. Still, she could not say she had a desire to be left with him in the chilly woods of decay.

Her eyes drooped once again and she pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Everything looked sad and withered without variation. It was beautiful in its own way but it made her disquieted to look upon for long periods. That might have been due to the looks of woe she saw in the eyes of any that spoke even in passing of the taint. It must have been quite a sight in the past when the land was free of the darkness. If she listened she could almost hear the wind sigh and trees whimper a plea for freedom. There were darker whispers as well, things she could not understand but felt the ill intent behind anyway. Little wonder the people retreated underground to escape such a sorrowful surrounding.

A branch snapped somewhere above with a loud crack.

The sound made her eyes jolt open and she realized she must have been drifting into sleep. Her eyelids were so heavy she seriously considered draping herself over her mount and simply letting it have its head as long as it wished if it meant she could sleep. Then again, the moss on the ground in some places would make a lovely bed. Perhaps when she was not so tired the idea would not be appealing but it was pure wonder to her now. She needed to dismount and walk to force her senses into something more lively lest she really fall asleep while riding.

"Might we stop a moment?" Loki muttered around partially numb lips.

Legolas glanced above and to all sides before he reluctantly nodded, "If you wish."

Without waiting for his advice on a place to halt their travels, she turned her little creature to the side and slid quickly from the leather saddle. She heard his protest and admonition for her to stay close to him but she let her feet shuffle her away toward the sound of running water. Her native guide was close enough to help her if she really found herself lost for any reason. She could not keep her body still a moment longer or she would surely fall into a deep sleep.

She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands but refused to stop walking even while her vision was blurred. It made her stumble but she righted herself before she could pitch forward. Graceful even half asleep, it had to be in her blood. Perhaps she favored her mother, whomever she was. It was hard to consider a Frost Giant as anything better than a lumbering monster but the females might be better. She had never seen a female of their kind but she did not know what that might say about the culture. There was so little she knew of that place and too few occasions when she had seen any of the people for her to have accurate guesses. That should seem pitiful considering Odin wanted her to rule it later in life. Though he did raise her to hate them unashamedly because he... what was it... did not want her to feel different?

Hunt the monsters down and slay them all! Thor's young voice popped into her mind suddenly and she flinched. Yes, that was exactly right, what they deserved, what she had been taught. A blaze of fire ran across her forehead and around her eyes and nose, making her reel to the side to shake the sensation free.

"Loki? Remember what I told you about the path!" Legolas was gaining on her even though she realized she had begun to run.

He reminded her of Thor. That was another reason she disliked him and had from the first. She could not run from him forever and she doubted it would be wise to escape him. She did not know where she would go. Gandalf had indeed told her of other places while they traveled, as she had hoped, but he neglected to tell her anything about distance more than a slight wave in a few directions. She might have asked if she had not known how dangerous that would have been.

Loki tripped, landing her full body heavily into a tree but she could not say she minded; it was something solid to lean against. Her own mind disconnected and her consciousness seemed pushed aside, as if in possession of another party. She lost her footing because she closed her eyes without realizing it in time so finding a tree was the least trouble she could have come against. What she wanted now was to be returned to her rooms and left there to rest for a few hundred years. Her grand plans to learn and plot her next move seemed trivial compared to her splitting head and heavy eyelids. The healer was right about her lack of recovery. Weak was accurate to describe her. Planning a grand escape was not useful if she could not carry it out. The wizard was of little enough help.

Her fingers were cold and uncomfortable clutching the rough bark and her palms felt too raw to touch anything so harsh. If she simply returned to the prince and the deer, they could take her home. Though it was not wise to even think of that place as home when she knew it to be untrue. It would be home only until they no longer found her useful. Tha might expire soon too if they saw her clutching at a tree to keep herself off the ground. She needed to do better at fighting off the so called poison of the planet.

She opened her eyes to the sound of cracking water only to close her lips over a scream.

Her fingers jerked away as the thin layer of frost kissed up the tree bark with the softest hiss of air. Her eyes were wide with horror as she stared sickly at the pattern it created; blue and white with spiral twists embedded like scars. Her touch had caused that? She flexed her fingers and swiftly scanned it for signs of blue tinting, but found nothing, so why?

Her heart was beating so fast in her chest it would soon be impossible to breathe but she could not slow it. Her hands were already shaking with the onset of nerves. The drowsiness lifted its hold to give room to rising terror. The others could not be allowed to see that, to know what she had done for it would be too complicated to answer. Impossible to answer considering her magic should have been totally locked away, trapping her as a human. So why? How had her touch caused that frost? Was it going to happen again? If her magic was finding a vent, why that, why?

Because it came most natural, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, but she ignored it vehemently.

"My lady, have you found something?" Legolas' question had her muscles jumping under her skin as she whirled to face him, strained smile in place.

"No, it is only that I missed the sight of nature, I suppose." Possibly the worst excuse she could have offered but she was so frightened that she could hardly control the shaking in her fingers; she thought her voice might have been a little high too, actually.

Her eyes darted back to the tree, hoping against hope he would not notice the frost, but...it was gone. Her eyelids fluttered closed a moment in relief, glad it vanished so quickly. Perhaps she willed it away. Still, she had need of taking great care of what she touched. In fact she was already worried about mounting her doe at this point.

"You look unwell." He stated blandly, "I believe you should return to the healing room."

She could not find it within herself to argue against that idea, he did not seem surprised when she only nodded, looking nervously to the doe blinking at her from beside the price. It was nice of him to bring her mount but it would really seem less nice if she accidentally froze the creature solid.

Panic shot through her at the thought and made her breaths quicken, lightening her head in very much the wrong way. Legolas dropped the leather ties of both animals and strode over to her side, hands extending toward her. The only thing she could think to do was back away just as quickly as he advanced, terror rising further at the thought of freezing him rather than her animal.

What could she do? How could she control what she did not think she was using? She felt nothing of her magic, no sign it had been used but perhaps there would be none if she had somehow been reduced to her base, latent instincts. Perhaps it was not blocked by the inhibitor for unknown reasons and she would turn blue at any moment to give away her most horrible secret. Once they saw her real form, the monster with red eyes, there would be nothing she could do to convince them she was anything other than an enemy; she would be doomed! A bit more doomed if she froze the price though, obviously; those things were taken personally by most cultures.

Legolas naturally misinterpreted her frantic retreat, lunging for her with that intense speed this race possessed. She dropped to the ground to evade his touch, pulling in on herself defensively and rolling to the side to avoid contact.

"I will not hurt you, please calm yourself!" Legolas splayed his fingers out, hands positioned in a placating gesture that made her realize suddenly that she had been pleading with him not to touch her. He again was misreading her sudden fears, thinking she feared harm rather than the real reason behind her desperation. She must have looked like a small, cornered animal judging by the soothing way he whispered at her to relax.

The thump to their right had their attention shifting instantly to the black mass of scurrying legs. The spider snarled aggressively even before the prince had drawn his blades. Instinct had her reaching for the hilt of her own sword only to joltingly realize it was missing. Legolas waited for nothing, charging at it with swinging silver. Another dropped beside them and he engaged them both with a cry of anger. Above them she could hear them now, descending like a swarm soon to be on them like a black sickness. She watched helplessly as the large deer turned and bolted, potentially back to the main path, abandoning their riders to fate; she could never hope to catch them on foot so she could only give them up as a lost cause.

It felt like the first time she encountered the elves, watching them move like liquid power and danger. At least she was alert and finally awake.

"Stay back!" He shouted to her.

Wise advice to offer one that had no form of defense, especially when a third spider jumped from above. The first beast was already slain but the other two were still very much alive. If she planned to flee from the elves, no better chance would ever be found. Unfortunate how she had already decided running from them would be very ill timed. Even so, she was far from ready to battle. Still, let none say Loki of Asgard was not resourceful or that she would flee from a fight. She was no fool but she knew when to run and when it was more profitable to stand her ground. She could not hope to stay with the elves if she left the prince to die, now could she, not as pragmatic as she was.

Loki snapped two branches from the tree beside her, ensuring they broke into a jagged point fit enough for rudimentary stabbing. It lacked finesse a sword or forged weapon would have but it would kill if used correctly. Additionally, it was all she had to work with.

She glared up as a spider dropped from above, jamming the branch into the ground to stabilize it when the creature impaled itself at her direction. The pounding in her temples was a loud reverberation but at least she was alert. Jamming her boot into the beast's side, she toppled it and pulled her makeshift blade free with a wet suction sound before thrusting it into the eye of another spider. She had not yet forgotten what their screams sounded like but it felt somehow sweeter this time. The hate she felt for them only seemed to have grown with time.

The Aesir snarled an old battle cry as she stabbed her way through another few spiders. The eyes were the easiest place to stab and do the maximum damage without having to work to free her rudimentary spear but going up through the mouth was equally sufficient. The bark was harsh against her hands but she stubbornly held firm to her branches as they were all she would be finding. Her skin would be raw by the end of the battle but there were worse fates than tender skin to be had.

One monster managed to catch a branch firmly in its fangs, refusing to release it, forcing her to drop it when a second beast lunged for her. She could hear Legolas in the distance but knew better than to count on his help. They drove her back, likely intending to cut her off from the group. Even as she felled some, others were there to force her into a retreat.

"Legolas!" A familiar feminine voice called above the hissing beasts and it made Loki cringe.

The dear Captain seemed to have arrived after all. The flowing flash of red through the trees was confirmation enough even though she was far enough away not to be seen easily. Marvelous! Now she would have to battle spiders and irate elves bent on revenge. She did not particularly care to see the elleth again. There was no way she would be caught unarmed against that squad. It would be conveniently easy to be shot and have it argued an accident. For all she knew, this had been a plot to do exactly that. It would be better to take a chance with the spiders. Loki let the spiders chase her now, intent on getting closer to where she believed they had left the Maia and the king.

The chill in the air grew sharply but the spiders did not seem to notice. She would have to spare a thought for what caused the cold some other time. A spider screamed again when the wooden tip pierced eye and brain matter, but she kept running. They would thin out eventually, she hoped. Leave them to the Captain! Her reasons for staying to fight had expired with the arrival of that group. Loki was indeed a realist and she knew when to abandon a situation for better options. It would be a simple matter to pretend she had been forced to run. A frantic feminine act always worked very well.

It was only when she neared a river that she began to notice the spiders falling back and a thin layer of frost beginning to etch the leaves.

"Hello, child." A deep, sinister voice echoed from all sides and she skidded to a stop, scanning every tree and inch upon the ground for the source. Something about the voice had her breathing in desperate gulps of air, clinging to vestiges of her composure that she simply did not feel.

* * *

AN: I was SO tired while writing the end of this but hopefully it makes sense. Still no computer so typos are going to be worse than normal even though I swear I try to find them.


	15. Forest

~=Eitho nin=~

~Aid Me~

Forest

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Mirkwood, Gandalf

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

(Alandaer also will be here again because I need him in my life)

_AN:You guys! You're all wonderful! I love reading your reactions!_

_You will all hate me now though, probably, for what I'm about to do. I'm prepared for it. I'm sorry I have to do this, but I do. It will get better though._

_And PLOT!_

* * *

The forest could do things, what exactly it could do, she was not sure, but it had power. It could probably create things, illusions. Thranduil told her it had been tainted by something. Alandaer told her she was in adversity with whatever taint was in place. These aspects could account for things like this. All she had to do was keep a clear mind and not allow a trick of magic to fool her. If she gave in the deception would be complete.

There were places like this in other realms, places that used tricks of the mind against any that fell into it. So long as they could hold to the truth they were able to pass through; if they lost sight of reality though, they were snared and trapped, doomed to wander endlessly.

Without use of her seidr to protect her she would be more open to it, like having the door to her mind unlocked or even partly open. In her desire to see freedom she seemed to have made a misstep in leaving the castle. It would have been a far better idea to refuse the wizard and forget curiosity.

"You're dead." She held her chin aloft, shoulders square, "This is but a simple figment and trickery."

The mass of blue muscle and icy skin did not flinch from her accusation, "An illusion, you say?" That voice was so very deep and gravelly it could give her knees reason to doubt her stability, "Or do you think I'm a ghost come to exact revenge?"

"What revenge could you exact in death that you could not in life? I already bested you."

Laufey ignored her, stabbing into her with those blood red eyes, "You would be closer if you thought me a ghost here to destroy you... or it would be so if I had been dead to begin with."

"You are dead!" Loki sneered, "I should know. You are nothing but tricks of light." Tricks that could speak.

"Oh, you still believe that? That a runt I abandoned could then turn around and defeat me, the king of giants?" The Jotunn sounded morbidly amused, and even more when he saw her flinch at those words, "No, my sweet, you did not best me, nor even hurt me... The queen used her magic to send me back to my own lands before I could rip you into pieces as I had planned! I thought to use your stupidity to kill Odin and my traitorous pup at once... but she kept me from you." He shrugged one armored shoulder, "But once I heard Odin had thrown you away, off to this world..." He arched an icy brow when she took a step forward to glare, hands trembling as she struggled with herself, "oh, I see, you did not know he let you fall intentionally? You did not know he sent you here?"

"There is no way he could know! No way he could even control it with the bridge destroyed!" Her voice was rising steadily with her anger.

Laufey smiled again, showing all his teeth, "Keep telling yourself that! Keep believing he had nothing to do with where you landed. Sweet thoughts like that will ease your passing, for I did not travel here to reunite, but to take from you what you could not take from me! Believe to the end that Odin did not send you here to die, to a land conveniently in such adversity with your very being, or that he does not know I would come after you!" He stepped forward, heavy and jarring, forcing her to step away.

"I killed you! I saw your body shatter into pieces!" Loki persisted evenly even as she backed away, afraid to show him her back if she ran. She did not even notice the way the ground had begun to chill, or the creeping, paper thin coating of ice branching forth around them.

"Are you certain that was what you saw? Stupid girl! Did you really think it a coincidence?" His voice was so deep and rough like sand in the eye, "You thought it would be that simple? Trick me and lure me away to a place I would be vulnerable without my ever suspecting a trap? And why, because you let some of my people in to die in your halls?" His laugh was like broken glass in a bottomless cave.

Fear was beginning to clog her mind of clarity. The need to run was so strong she did not know if she could withstand it. She wished Thranduil was here, or Legolas, or even the wizard. Any of them could have told her if this was real, though her mind screamed that he was very real and a rather large threat to her continued life.

"I suppose it never occurred to you that I might figure out what you were up to, daughter of my flesh? Weakling!" Laufey growled loud in her ear as he caught her arm, jerking her up close and purred; "too simple minded" when he pinned her wrists together in one of his giant hands.

Now she might be panicking, just possibly. The ice at her feet thickened and splintered in wide, heavy cracks but neither of them slipped over it. He was much faster than she had been expecting and for a moment all she could do was stare in horror at his fingers locking her hands together. One arm had looped behind her to stay her retreat or struggles and with it she could hardly think over the swell of defeat. Without even testing his grip she knew it would be extremely difficult to break.

His arms were massive and she already felt overwhelmed and breathless even though he had yet to hurt her. Her heart was in her throat as she took in the fact that she could feel his cold touch, that he was real and cradling her in an embrace that might have been comforting under very different conditions, if he were a real father that loved her - Not a monster. His smile was sharp, full of points and sadistic satisfaction waiting to rip her to ribbons, drawing it all out to prolong the suffering.

Loki did not scream until she saw her skin slowly creeping to blue, starting at her fingertips and moving torturous up her arms. The repulsion and knowledge that he was forcing this, this atrocity on her was too much. Thought of showing no response and no fear was banished with this development, making her come alive. Thrashing and screaming with all she had did nothing but cause his sharp toothed smile to grow.

"No! No, no, no, stop! Unhand me!" She writhed and arched away from him, twisting her body any direction that might cut contact.

"Oh, no, never, my sweet! Before I kill you, I want to see you, my little girl; worthless child! I want to see you as you are before I shred your body in my hands. The last thing you see will be everything you hate and fear. I want you to die knowing what you are and that everyone threw you away because of it; left you to die."

Loki clawed at his hand with what were now peaked black claws, growling deep in her throat and showing what might have already turned to fangs. When he touched his lips gently to her forehead she could not hold back the gasp, mind drawn instantly back to the nights as a child when Odin kissed her goodnight in the same way.

"He asked me to tell you goodbye for him, and to wish you well on the other side. Said it was better this way, to save everyone from the backlash and shame to follow. He said he would tell the world you died in an attack rather than as you did. Told me to assure you he would never speak of your heritage to the public."

Loki could only draw sharp, partial breaths as she listened, body stiff from the harsh blow of those words. Norns, it was true, Odin had done this! She could almost hear Odin saying exactly that, with likely bigger words and a soft look of fake regret in his eyes.

When he settled onto his knees, holding her close and studying her with a feral grin, she did not fight, "Only your adoptive family will be told the truth of your end once the deed is done." That would mean Odin, or more likely Heimdall would be watching, relishing it, and that cut even more deeply somehow, "But Loki," Laufey crooned, "all of the Jotunn realm with hear how our traitor was slain, thrown to her death and ended by her true king for her heinous treachery."

"You are **not** my king!" It was all she could think to say and she spit the words with force and a deep, feral snarl. "You are a monster, a mutt in the streets that deserves only to be put down! A king you will never be for you are of no value and no standing! You crawl through snow and feed upon frozen waste like a scavenger, existing off pity alone."

His eyes flashed a brighter red before he, to her surprise, laughed, "My child, you know best about existing off pity and playing at royalty. You are unworthy to walk in the facade of the Aesir and unworthy to hide my blood within you...which is why..." He looked contemplative for a moment, "I suppose, you are always thrown away. To look long upon you is to see nothing and those with an eye for value can tell. You existed off the pity of one queen with a soft spot for a worthless child. Odin would have thrown you away long ago and I'm sure you know that.

He would have tossed you to my kingdom on pretense of helping his son rule, declared you my child to the world and made you ambassador...knowing fully well we would never accept what we already threw away. He would have let us descend and pull you into pieces, and in doing so, begin a new war for his son to win as a sign of a new ruler's power. Even as it stands now, you serve as a martyr for any cause he decides to rally for. You have always been a tool he intended to use and throw away. You are only valuable when dead."

Everything was tingly and numb with churning panic. It was too unreal, too much to stand. Looking into his face alone was more than she could stand, too painful, but listening was worse. All she could do was draw quivering breaths just to try to think but her mind was fuzzy and it felt like drowning. There was no processing, no way to think her way out. She couldn't run, too tired to move and too defeated to try because it would simply be too hard. She wanted to be anywhere but this place, would give anything for someone to make it stop, but she knew. No one ever helps. No one ever cared.

There was a dampness that came over her cheeks but she didn't think to wonder why or what the sensation was, it somehow didn't matter.

It only dawned on her that he had let go of her wrists when his large hand began caressing her curls slowly. There was no pain, only the cold sense of his touch and presence but she wished there was. Pain would be easier but she guessed he knew that.

Loki had always been a fighter but she felt too tired now and she wanted this. The sound of frost and ice forming seemed familiar in some disturbing way and she closed her eyes to it. If his strategy had been to make her relinquish her will to live, it had worked. She wanted him to do this, to stab her or cleave her head from her shoulders. It would mean that it could at last have an ending. Odin and Laufey would no longer be the cruel shadows to haunt her every step. The blue monster hidden under her skin would be gone just as everyone, herself included, wanted it to be. She had been born unwanted and she would die the same, but at least this way it was moderately her own choice as to when.

Loki could fight, weakly with her powers locked away, or perhaps allow her ice powers freedom to do as they wished, but to what avail? She knew somewhere deep in herself that she should care, or might later care, but in the moment at hand she could not bring herself to. To live on as she had been? It did not seem worth it. To fight a world that hated her? Why? When she could simply give up and set the world right again. She could die by the hands that originally set out to end her at her beginning. This was fated, she thought - restoration of balance that Odin displaced by taking her.

It surprised her when his hands found her shoulders and pulled her gently into a sitting position, propping her back against his massive chest and let her head rest on his shoulder. Slit throat, perhaps? An intimate kill and an easy one considering her weakened state. She would not mind it.

Loki's body stiffened, eyes snapping wide when she saw the sheet of ice before her, spread over the tree nearest in reflective clarity. He was there, nearly expressionless behind her, and she was there with red eyes and blue skin. All she could do was stare at the sight of them together, the pieces clicking into place in a shattering understanding of what he wanted. Faces so close, she could see it, the resemblance. In this form, features sharpened and cold, she saw it. His cheekbone structure, the curve of his nose, and slant of eyes and brow; there were distinctsimilarities, his features showing in her face. They looked like a father and daughter, similar with unmistakable shared aspects. No one could fail to notice the familial tie between them if they were this close.

She looked like him the way she had never looked like Frigga, Thor, or Odin. In this sheen of ice, clear as glass, it was obvious.

Her heart hurt; breathing hurt. She couldn't. Just couldn't. Not this, it was too cruel, to painful, to draining to endure. She could see herself shaking in the reflection and saw the tears trailing down her etched blue checks.

At first the sound was only a whimper but without even realizing the horrible noise originated from her own throat, she was screaming despair. Something deep within her snapped, she felt it, like a bone breaking under pressure, and she screamed out the pain and rage that came alone. Everything began to break and crack so loudly around her that she thought of covering her ears. Laufey began to hiss and snarl, pulling away from her as quickly as she pulled away from him. He was suddenly too hot, too blurry, and it made her skin crawl to be near him. An opinion he now he seemed to share with her.

* * *

There was dark blood speckling the leaves of the trees and pooling in various locations along the ground. Some corpses still hung limply from their own webbing, seeping away what was left of their bodily fluids while others were cut into multiple pieces scattered at random. It had been quite a battle, one in which the Maia was very helpful, as was to be expected. They did not need his help, of course, but he made quick enough work of anything that came his direction. It was always a bit interesting to watch one of the great old men fight.

Little time had been spent with much attention dedicated to the Elvenking's guest, if he were to be honest, not when he was frantic with apprehension. Thranduil might have sworn he had taken not one full breath since he realized a mass attack was underway and he had unintentionally sent his only child and his far more helpless guest away from all forms of protection. For that, he had rather cursed the wizard, for it was indeed his fault as it most often was when disaster struck. Perhaps that was unfair, but he could no more help his heated internal assessment of pointed rage than he could help the irrational terror pounding with each beat of his heart.

Regardless, he left the wizard to fend for his own preservation moments after the initial attack, not looking back or caring to warn him. All his desperate shouting had been to no avail, offering no reply from the sought after targets. All he had been able to do was slice through as many beasts as quickly as he could while racing in the direction he had last seen the two. Legolas, he trusted to take care of himself for the most part and he also trusted Tauriel to have appeared at his side like a pet since her party had arrived on the heels of the spiders. He would place his entire fortune on a bet involving his son being right beside the previous Captain of the Guard. Spiders were nothing new to any of them but the two were never far from trouble and even closer to each other at any given time. If anything he was sure the two were chasing down the retreating monsters remaining without a single thought to anyone else. They were both young and foolish.

Later he would have a very long talk with them both, a talk that would do no more good than any of the others, but a talk that would make him feel much better. He would find them safe and sound and proceed to scold endlessly. That had been all he could console himself with and he made it quite the litany.

Thranduil took his first free breath when Legolas slid into sight atop a falling tangle of withered legs, the intense grip on his lungs easing but not fully letting go. Perhaps it had not been seemly but he had been quick to arrive beside the ellon, cupping his son's face desperately between his palms, staring deeply into those wide eyes to convey words he could never speak in voice. It lasted but a moment before he relinquished his hold, pulling in on himself and sliding his usual indifferent mask into place, retreating back a few guilty steps before Tauriel came into view. He could not allow himself such weak moments, not when more of his warriors dropped from the trees around them. Legolas would have hated for them to have seen...

His shoulders pulled themselves ridged and his chin jerked itself upward to gaze down his nose at his ex-Captain of the Guard. The swift conclusion to follow, one he had also suspected, made his heart stutter far more than he would have expected but his expression did not shift even for a moment. Tauriel dropped to her knees before him to report in more detail, but the summery was nothing to make his heart beat easily. Loki, she and Legolas confirmed in a rush, was well and truly missing. He offered little attention to the swift report of what had caused the spiders wild appearance, instantly focused on the most serious problem presented.

His heart clenched painfully as he absorbed the various problems involved in the situation. Loki was virtually helpless, inhibited, without a weapon... and highly unlikely to depend on aid from others. If he felt he could count on anything, he worried that she would have strayed from any of the others simply to avoid the group she had already had an altercation with. That woman was as independent as the wind and he had a horrible feeling she would have gone her own way once the spiders flooded the area. Had he only known the spiders were coming he never would have sent them off alone!

Something in the air set on edge every fiber of his magic, sinking a feeling of foreboding into his bones and coiling his mind with images of her. His jaw was tight, teeth clenched tight. Legolas watched him so closely, brow furrowed and eyes very wary; Tauriel never even dared look him in the eye. It mattered little. He liked to think he was perfectly composed but he could feel the nerves thrumming under his skin like a swarm of bees seeking an outlet; he admittedly did not wait for further word before he set off anew, boots pounding the ground with determination.

His urging drove his mount to gallop just a bit faster through the trees, the great creature having to duck its head most of the time to avoid branches that might catch at its horns but his old friend endured it without complaint as Thranduil's eyes darted over every surface in search of a familiar flash of raven black. The stress from his previous fear for Legolas had his nerves keyed too high, which caused the shaking in his hands he could not push aside. The beating of his heart was like a panicked bird diving against the wall of a cage and he still could not take a breath that felt full. Once she was found he could be at ease but not a moment before.

The scream stopped his heart, chilling his blood right to the marrow, making pull at the harness to stop their progress. Her name fell in a fraught whisper from his lips, quicksilver eyes shooting through the expanse of trees, seeking her in a whole new desperation. Without even being told, the great elk turned its canter in the direction of the scream. There had been occasions he had heard screams like that. It was a horrid sound of pain, anguish at the moment a spirit snapped. He supposed it was similar to the screams that left his throat the day he lost his father or his wife.

Upon hearing it he was all the more certain his assumptions had been correct. The spiders were dead or on the run but there had been no sign of the Aesir before that sound; though it eased him not at all, at least the scream gave him something to work with.

Desperation had flooded his brain like water, forcing out rationality the moment he heard the sound again. The foreign queen was in grave danger and anything that happened to her was very fully his fault. Whatever was happening to her must be put to a full, swift end. Why had he agreed to take her out? He knew it was ill fated from the moment it was suggested even if he no longer worried she would run away, there had always been other concerns. This was what happened when any listened to the whim of a Maia! Calamity followed on the robes of those men like a shadow!

In a sudden, drastic shift, the air turned frigid and his breath came in puffs of vapor. Neither he nor his stag hesitated a moment, the animal simply scenting the air more thoroughly, shifting directions accordingly. There was no explanation for the dusting of ice on the bark and leaves but it was clear it could mean nothing pleasant. The great creature halted suddenly, tossing his head with a low huff of triumph, ears flattened and hoof stamping in a warning.

The moment Thranduil's eyes caught her, he was moving, running to her and sliding to his knees beside her well before he even realized he dismounted. It was only after he was knelt beside her that he noticed the darkness swirling around like a fixed storm; something else still gliding swiftly through the trees like a shadowy void. Fear was instant as it sprung inside him like a dark void there to swallow him; it was very dangerous, whatever it was.

Instinct had him crouching low, shielding her prone form with his body, defensive magia springing to his lips in swift whispers to bar or at least slow it should it turn back. The right side of his face inexplicably felt hot and unpleasant, but he punshed the sensation to the back of his mind, lacking time to indulge it. He watched as what little of the figure he had seen vanished from sight, leaving only the ill, dark residue behind. That must have been what his old friend had been warning him of but he hair at the back of his neck stood on end, his skin prickling with discomfort strong enough to make him shiver while his magia flair around him like quivering wings, feathers fanned wide to push it away. Though the being had gone he could feel its presence clinging to the grass and permeating the air, the translucent, fluttering wings of his creation were ineffective to banish it totally.

When his eyes turned back to her, really looking at her this time, he found the breath stalled in his throat. The Loki he met was not to be seen in this poor girl. She by all rights looked otherworldly, like a ghost driven mad in life only to be just as haunted in death. Her eyes were wild yet lifeless all at once, fixed to something horrific that none but she could see.

The Sinda could only stare at her, unable to take a breath for fear he might not actually be able to bring her back to the right side of life. The goetia residuum around her would have been visible to even human eyes, swirling and angry. Her fingers were coiled tight in her own hair, likely pulling some from her scalp as her upper body rocked back and forth on the frozen ground. Her trembling lips were moving but nothing intelligible was forthcoming. There were streaks of tears down her pallid, sunken cheeks and it was somehow heartbreaking to look upon, at least in someone so naturally in control being brought so low. She would be humiliated if she was in possession of her normal faculties and that was also rather devastating. Even as he wove protections around her the vacant look in her eyes did not lift.

"Loki," he whispered softly to her, running his fingers up her arms to take hold of her hands, tugging gently and working carefully to untangle her fingers from her hair. Her skin was covered in a thin frost that melted in his hold and he worked faster as the realization dawned. The sensations from the dark magic had stalled his other senses to the danger she was clearly in. Her body was freezing cold, more than simply chilled from the air. His eyes continued to bounce up and around every so often to be sure nothing was returning.

She let him pry her hands away and he gathered her gently into his arms, wrapping her up in his cloak, willing his warmth into her. His long fingers threaded through her hair to massage, words used to soothe children tripped softly from his lips without his ever thinking of it. Hysteria was beating a swift tune in the corners of his mind as he coiled around her as much as he could, trying to bring life back into her. There was a tint of blue hiding under her skin that heightened his desperation as he frantically tried to chase away the cold.

It was only then that he began to notice the thick broken glass surrounding them; a closer look and the discomfort of ice melting into his clothing brought his mind to realize it was ice. There was a dense sheet of ice extending around the both of them in a wide circle, broken and cracked into jagged splits. The earth seemed charred in some places though it was hard to be sure now that it was covered in frozen water. Where it traveled up the trees, the wood splintered and peeled, glittering with the sheen of its coating. It looked like the ice itself exploded everything around it, destroying every surface, though still burned in others. That was not some trick of glamour, no craft of goeteia, it was very real.

Why had he not noticed before? Something was lingering and dulling his normally sharp edges. The very air was too thick to breathe, making every voice within his skull scream for him to flee.

"Who attacked you? How did this happen?" Thranduil prodded urgently, scanning the area he had last seen...whatever it had been. "Loki? Please!"

Nazgûl, perhaps? But no, it had not felt quite like one of their horrid kind. It felt... worse and more familiar in some ways, making something within him quake without knowing why. This scene stretched before him did not fall into place with the dark beings he knew of. Though the question really would be, why had it fled? Not for fear of him; though he was strong he was not powerful enough to make a Nazgûl-if it had been- turn away so easily. He did not care to think what, if not a Nazgûl, it had been for the other choices were worse. Perhaps it was nothing from their world, but from hers? That might be a better option. He would rather see it be from her world than the potentials from his. They could not linger in any case, whatever power had been there, it was dangerous. They must return to the rest of the party and further to the safety of the castle walls.

He had scarcely begun to scoop her up off the ground before his men began dropping from the trees, making their way toward their king with deeply worried expressions. Thranduil tensed as he felt the ice under his feet begin to shift subtly, making him glance behind for signs of a renewed attack. The ice was extending, branching forward like roots of a tree. It moved with his progress as if it intended to remain in his steps.

The moment the guards moved forward, the ice shifted harshly, leaping up in a dangerous circle of twisting spines. They grew like sharp vines, deadly and defensive. His men backed away, startled, but inched closer again a moment later. The sharp crystals shifted again in response, an effective wall to ward off entry. Loki shuddered in his arms, twitching miserably, eyes open but seemingly unseeing. His breath stalled in his throat as realization slammed into him like a slap.

Oh... Loki. The ice was Loki's doing, her creation, her defense, controlled by whatever power she used. When she had been attacked, somehow she used it to defend herself but at a high cost. Perhaps the inhibitor was the reason she seemed in such a poor condition. It was the only thing that made sense as he studied the ice-sickle wall before him. Even now, she was still trying to defend against threats, and perhaps she was equally trying to protect him, even in her confused state.

"It's alright, they mean us no harm, I promise. You are safe now, Loki." He whispered the words directly into her ear, gentling his voice to calm her as much as he was able past his own fears.

The ice wavered, shrinking slightly but did not fully depart. His eyelids fluttered, a strange grief swelling in him for her and what he must have allowed her to endure. She should never have been left alone, reduced to such a state. Pulling his cloak around her further, leaning over her was all he could do to shield her from the sight of any that might look. Her ability to bypass the inhibitor did not frighten him as if should have, it only coiled guilt in his core. He was the cause of her pain. He took away her ability to freely defend her own life from the horrors in his lands. Now she was trying to protect him; he knew it somehow in the way she had clutched her slender fingers into his tunic, the sensation of her fear, and the clear fact that she allowed him near her when she did not do the same for others.

He wanted to beg her forgiveness but instead he said; "These are my people, here to protect us." He felt so ill, from guilt as well as the darkness still permeating the air they were breathing.

"Thranduil?" She choked back in response, voice raw, but her eyes finally met his. "Is he... is..." it seemed too difficult for her to finish the question so he did not press, he understood the feeling. He was not fully himself either but he could not quite brush away the cloud in his own mind. Given a little time, they would be fine.

The spikes of ice retreated, fading progressively lower until they were no more. The looks in the eyes of his guards was hard to read over the feeling assaulting him from her as his own mixed with them. Something, perhaps her magic, was twining into him, clinging and seeking refuse. If only he could offer substantial comfort but he doubted she would find any in him. He would never allow her to be alone again, that much he vowed.

Legolas must have retrieved his stag, for he road into view at the edge of... the lingering haze of smoke. Father and son locked eyes and all he saw within was fear and intense confusion. What did they see, looking at the king and the world traveler in his arms? What caused such a look? Tauriel swung herself down from behind Legolas, eyes meeting his for the first time since he dismissed her from the throne room. She too looked decidedly wary, frightened even, but no less intense.

Thranduil watched them drift closer, stalking forward fingers flexing as if itching to draw forth an arrow or blade. It was Legolas that found his tongue. "What happened, Adar? Are you... unharmed?"

His son looked so much the child now, wide eyed and eager for reassurance, "I am quite unharmed but... she is in urgent need of care."

Legolas' eyes grew impossibly wider, "This..." his intense gaze traveled over the expanse of ground, moving well behind them. "What manner of-"

"The necromancer," Tauriel cut in with eyes brimming with unhealthy curiosity before she dipped into a crouch, daring to reach toward them, almost touching the dark mist, "it must be! I have seen this moving and lingering within the old fortress but we stayed far from it."

The mist... he had not noticed the fog of darkness hovering so far in this direction, but he did now. It was the lingering proof that some dark creature had been present not long ago. It was unmistakable as a sign of power most foul; it slowed the senses of even an elf, stealing the light from them. He too had seen it before and knew better what it meant. If the necromancer was the source it afforded no comfort, for that would mean a Nazgûl, perhaps Angmar himself, were whispers to be believed. Everyone knew the force infesting Dol Guldur could be no mere human. Sometimes he worried it might be worse than they feared. Cold chills ran up and down his spine at the flicker of thought his mind had no desire to follow.

Thranduil could not hold back the way his body jerked, startled when the Grey Wizard burst into the clearing, swinging from his horse with shocking agility, staff in hand. There was a loud clack as the wooden staff connected against the ground with authority, sending a resonating shock though the earth itself, acting like a strong wind to disperse the smoky mass. The mist rushed back, then worked in a sluggish crawl to return.

"Enough! Back away!" Mithrandir bellowed at the elves and they scattered in the face of his intensity. "You must stay away from it! This...is..." he did not finish, speaking next in a tongue even Thranduil was not fully familiar with. It was not Westron or Sindarin but he felt he should be able to place it.

Though he admittedly was not paying close attention, focused more heavily on what seemed more vital, which was holding the shell in his arms together until she could be cared for, "What is it, Mithrandir?" He ground out, unwilling to simply wait to hear what the Maia intended doing.

Surprisingly, the wizard paused to answer, "Do not move, my friend, not just yet."

The Elvenking pulled her closer, afraid the situation might have been miss read, "She is injured, we must bring her to the healing rooms at once!"

"Yes..." Mithrandir conceded, usually tranquil eyes sharp as fine metals, "but not before this darkness is forced from its hold on her. If it is allowed to linger, it will do grave harm to you both." Forceful steps brought the Maia forward, his feet treading as if the very ground affronted him, but when his fingers found their way onto the Elvenking's shoulder he swore his vision briefly flooded with starlight and the pleasant warmth of the summer sun.

When Thranduil blinked, it was to a sharper, clearer world that seemed far less dark. For a fleeting moment he might have believed the woods were green once again, but his rational mind knew better. Still, it was a pleasant sensation from times long past, those that he thought forgotten brought back by some kindness to chase away the cruel hold. Loki reacted far less favorably to the touch, stiffening and curling closer in his arms.

"Kill me!" She whispered fiercely, startling both the Sinda and the Istari in equal measure, "I would rather die than be his monster..." the words were broken and miserable, "I will not! I will not! I will not!"

"Oh, child..." Mithrandir's touch was feather light against her forehead, eyes softer as he whispered something very powerful an ancient, but this time he recognized the words. Thranduil could only watch, transfixed by the power he felt gliding in gentle warmth around them, a power only one of the five could possess, and it was rare to see it at work; she must have touched some soft place in him for him to use it, for Gandalf the Grey was known to be sparing with his use of power. Loki twitched, clinging tightly to whatever she could hold onto of his tunic, but the tight coils of her muscles began to relax cord by cord. The necklace shimmered in resistance, something the wizard clearly noticed, but ignored in his continued work. When she grew limp, the wrinkled hand withdrew.

"Take her away from here!" The wizard's words were weighty, "While it is dispelled, the damage is still present. She must be treated quickly!"

Thranduil nodded rather obtusely, ready to be free of the suffocating place, but the wizard caught his arm and leaned close, "You should also draw your people back, remove them for a time to enable me to investigate without jeopardizing their safety."

Again, the Sinda only nodded, though with admittedly more gravity the second time to ensure it was clear he understood. Why would he consider letting his people stray from the castle grounds in the next few nights anyway? What manner of ruler did people think he was? Was it not his reputation to be overly cautious? Not likely! They would all be gathered up within the safety of his walls to be sure they risked no further interaction with... Necromancers... Nazgûl, or the like. He would never be capable of a moments rest unless they were all within the highly guarded, highly protective wall. Punishment or not, the patrols would be suspended a few nights and the squad numbers increased. More weaponry would not go amiss either.

Even so, he paused, whispering carefully, "Are you certain you are in no need of assistance?" In no way did he desire to go, not after encountering it, but he would. Legolas could return Loki to the healing rooms without incident, at least in theory. If there was further threat to his lands it should be he that accompanied the wizard.

Mithrandir cocked a brow, the twinkle returning to his smile, "I shall manage. Stay with her, as I know it would pain you to do otherwise." There was something much too knowing about that look but he had no notion as to what those milky blue eyes observed.

Almost without thinking, he shifted his cloak more fully to hide Loki from the sight of the company, shifting his attention over his kin. Best to ignore all else for the moment.

"We shall withdraw, back behind the gates..." Thranduil pursed his lips, briefly considering announcing it as Mithrandir's request but decided to leave it off, "Everyone report and partake of any healing necessary once we are within. The injured take precedence." His molten eyes caught and held Tauriel's, "Ensure your people are accounted for and prioritize health risks. Patrol is thus suspended until all have been cleared."

The elleth dipped in a bow with a respectful fist over her heart before she raced away. She would ensure it was done so he could feel secure in leaving them. Thranduil waited for no further responses before he carefully swung himself and his passenger fluidly atop his elven elk and raced away from the darkened patch of earth. When the wizard returned to his halls he would discover more, or more simply what portions were divulged rather than hidden. In truth, he might never know a great deal about the forces encroaching on his kingdom unless Mithrandir decided to allow him to, or unless Eru sent him glimpses, but he could endure. He had endure thus far, and without a ring of power he was sure Galadriel and Elrond likely used to keep foul forces from their lands. What he accomplished had been on his own power. It mattered very, very little what he had done, for this reminded him keenly that it was not enough. Nothing would ever be quite enough to protect those he was responsible for. It was nothing short of maddening, and e pressed forward, nudging with his knees to urge for more speed.

"I have you. Everything will be alright, I promise. " It would, he would fix this, protect her, somehow. Somehow. He would find a way to fix everything.

* * *

"What has happened?" A very irate healer was already marching rather swiftly down the hallway, white robes billowing, to meet Thranduil long before word could have reached his ears.

"We were attacked. She was separated from the company." The Elvenking responded quickly, even as he used the length of his long legs to move him just that much faster to present her unconscious form to one who could help her far better than his enchantments along the way. He had tied a hundred strings to her spirit to hold her tethered to him but she seemed no closer for it. While she might have been broken free, she was not recovering as he wished to see.

They nearly collided in their haste, but Alandaer bent over her, clutching her cold fingers and prying her eyes open, "Take it off! Now!" The healer commanded sharply.

When Thranduil only blinked in response, the healer huffed and ground out lowly, "The necklace! Remove it. If you do not, nothing I do will reach her. She must be allowed to heal without inhibition or she will-"

He nearly dropped her in his haste to reach the clasp, but Alandaer was there to catch what he did not. Just a light brush of his fingers and a flick at the fastening before it fell from round her neck with a loud clatter of metal against stone. Loki gasped sharply and arched in their arms, her eyes fluttering open only to close again as she relaxed once more. With nothing more than that, the healer stole her from his arms and was gliding away before Thranduil's feet could quite catch up.

They rushed down the halls, the Elvenking at the older ellon's heels, "Will she be alright?"

"She will if I have a say, which I do. I shall not let her slip away." There was no indication Alandaer's feet ever touched the ground as he fairly flew into his healing room to place her carefully atop a bed before he set to work mixing and grinding leaves.

Thranduil's fingers curled through hers without his permission but he left them there regardless and he did not stop his other hand from stroking her head to sooth her how he might, "What do you require me to do?"

"Nothing more than you are now. Anchor her and remind her you are there." Alandaer plucked several things from the shelves before settling in place again, "Though you must explain to me how a wizard, a king, prince, and their guards allowed an unarmed girl to be lost in our woods! Further, I expect you to explain what manner of monster did this!"

"We were overrun by a massive nest being purged. She was lost in the ensuing confusion but I do not know what happened after that. I had hoped you might tell me based upon observations you might note."

"Mithrandir did not know? Is he becoming so careless?" The way the healer spoke was enough to convey dubiety. When he held out a branch of herbs, he offered no instruction, but Thranduil knew well enough what it was used for.

The Sinda only answered once he had carefully slipped a dry leaf under her tongue to dissolve there, "It is possible it was the Necromancer."

Alandaer's hands stilled for a moment but he did not look up, "You are certain?"

"It would seem it is true, or highly likely at the least."

"That is...most troubling." He resumed his impressive mixing with little more, "Though little wonder then why she is in such poor condition. I was less than pleased to hear she had been taken out but I hoped for no disaster to befall her. She was fading so quickly already but to add an encounter with such a creature surely sent her well over the edge... though without the magic to defend herself I am amazed she survived. A wizard should have known better. "

Thranduil narrowed his gaze, suddenly perplexed at the realization, "You have seen her before? What do you mean fading? How do you know any of this?" He never thought to question it before, not even when he encountered the two in the library, but now it seemed more than strange.

Still not deigning to look up, he replied, "I met her last night and treated her. Her health was rapidly declining."

"How so?" It seemed he was bound to travel in circles all day, forever a few steps behind the rest of the world.

At last he looked up, "Then Legolas did not tell you. I rather thought he might not keep to her request but it seems he did." Clearly taking note of the mounting confusion and frustration written over the Elvenking's face, he continued, "She was not well last night, I could see as much, so I sought her out to confirm it. I determined that she has been suffering for some time, healing herself with her own magic before it was cut off, but she is essentially at odds with the taint. It is warring with her very existence but I suspect there is a manner of mutual adversity."

Thranduil shook his head in an attempt to clear it and enable himself to organize his thoughts, "What mutual adversity? Sauron has been diminished. " Because he was not sure he could hear about her suffering without his notice, not just now. He knew she had taken the inhibitor badly but he had seen nothing to indicate she was in danger from it. Had she hidden it so well, uttered not one complaint? How cruel and callous was he that he did not see?

Alandaer looked at him incredulously, "How long will he remain so? You as well as I know he is not without recourse."

Thranduil's fingers tightened around her frail hand, "Don't speak foolishness."

"Then you have not dreamed of fire and charred earth?" The healer studied him and surely did not miss the twitch in his shoulders. "Do not try to fool me for I have lived too long to be deceived easily. You know he is not so far gone as some would have us believe, for we see it best of all, each day when we but step out the doors."

Thranduil's breath released in a gust, shoulders slumping, "I wished not speak of it, dared not think it lest I bring it about with my dwelling in darkness. I cannot believe it but I know I must prepare for the eventuality. The servants of evil are gathering steadily but I... know not how to prevent it." The words had come in a rush, honesty born of guilt and weariness. "That is why I must have Loki! Surely she was sent to us for a reason!" He felt too vulnerable to hide from one he had known so long, a former adviser to Oropher.

Alandaer said nothing, only picked the bowl off the table and moved to Loki's other side. With skill born from centuries of practice, he persuaded the unconscious woman to drink very slowly, taking such care with every drop to ensure it neither spilled nor choked her. The prayers to Eru floated from his lips like the sweetest songs long ago committed to memory. Once the medicine had been administered they were silent some time, both studying her every breath.

After his nerves had endured enough with no visible change in her, he could stay silent no longer, "Is she improving?"

"Would I be standing idle if she was not? Healing is rarely instant." Again, without looking up, he held the branch of herbs under the Elvenking's nose, "But you will put one of these under your tongue as well. You are not yet as recovered as you seem to assume."

Thranduil glared at the offending plant, "I was not injured."

Deep, wise eyes locked with silver, "You were not unharmed either." Without even fully letting his hand touch upon the right side of Thranduil's face, it was enough to ignite a sting that made the king flinch away, and the knowing look in those dark eyes spoke volumes. "Dark magia is a difficult thing to cleans from a wound, impossible if it is not treated extensively and immediately. As you know, it will always linger, but it is made worse when contact with similar beings is initiated. The leaf, now."

Thranduil turned his face away, but plucked the leaf from the branch all the same, obeying as if he were reduced a few thousand years in age. "I am not damaged." But he did not feel himself, not at all. In truth, he did feel very damaged even if there were no marks to demonstrate. The incident had left him hollow and scraped out. Restraint was needed if he intended to put himself back to rights, so he released his hold on Loki's hand and stepped away.

"No, but that will not prevent the pain."

"I care not. I only seek an end to the madness, which Loki could bring. I would have you heal her as swiftly as is in your power." Some part of the king wished to flee and hide away in his chamber, "Once she is well, I shall rest more easily."

"Is that the only reason, truly, for your concern? I do not believe you so indifferent."

"I care nothing for the lives of outsiders! She is a means to an end! My people are my responsibility."

"You are lying." Alandaer stated simply, "You are fond of her, seeing her harmed frightens you; speak it plainly and cease your ever complicated attempts to bar all emotion from your life. You feel too deeply to accomplish indifference. It would do you well to admit your own feelings before you drive away everyone that loves you, Legolas included."

"Stop!" Thranduil held up a hand, "I cannot have this discussion now. I am not fully myself."

"On the contrary, I think now is a very good time. Before you can hide yourself away and resurrect your protective walls, now is a good time to make you listen to reason." The healer sounded so assured in his every word and it burned fury in his heart.

The platinum strands whipped into his own face as he turned away, "Be silent! You have others to treat that are more in need than I! Those injured in the woods will arrive soon so you should focus your full attention on stabilizing her before you must see to them." Thranduil burst from the room, retreating to the relative safety of the tower to gather himself back into some semblance of sanity. He could not afford to let his emotions run so unchecked lest he slip into something he could not control.

Once he was seated in his chair he felt more in control but not enough. He knew better than to allow himself to hide away in his chambers or he might not resurface for much too long. It was unwise to allow himself to devolve into such a state of upset as he might if he were fully hidden from the eyes of others. He was in need of control, total control. Control was what he did best, especially over his own emotional state. If his fingers brushing over the old wound caused pain, so be it. Never the less, he stuck the sweet leaf under his tongue and schooled his posture in the chair while he studied the many papers spread before him. The way to regain control was to focus on what he must do and the reasons he must hold himself together. His people would need him to be focused and strong, a wall of unshakability. No darkness would shake them for they would endure as they always had. Loki had nothing to do with them besides what he decided she did.

He would visit her later, once the light of day had retreated and his officers had all offered report. Once the issues were resolved he would return but not before. Equally, once she was awake he would find far more answers to exactly what occurred.

* * *

AN: Alright, so, there was lots of guessing about who the voice would be but several of you were spot on. It was indeed Arda's big bad himself, come to check out the same things Gandalf was.

Ok, but I had a couple people worried Sauron was gonna try to woo her, but I'm going to assure you, no, this is not going to be Sauron/Loki. I saw your point, they would be a terrifying, bad, power couple! TERRIFYING! Such bad news for Asgard, Earth, Arda, everywhere! But I don't think Mr Fire-face is capable of that since he gave up his original form... pretty sure? Maybe he is? But he's very emotionally not what Loki needs, so bad for her, and she's not evil. It's safely a Thranduil/Loki, have no fear!  
However! I instantly thought of some great spoof songs for that relationship! I had to share! Go ahead and roll your eyes. Bad Blood by Taylor Swift, Try by P!nk, and Just Like Fire by P!nk as well. I also considered Hot by Avril as kind of fit if they were on good terms. Those were just starters!

You will get the full story once Loki is awake so far as how that little encounter ended.

I struggled with this chapter so hard, having the beginning and almost end of it written, but trying to fix all the between to what I was going for, and failing so much. I can't do writing. I just could not work this until I was at all happy with it so I finally admitted defeat and decided to post it anyway because it's not going to get better, it might even get worse. I'll do better next chapter.

For Gandalf leaving though, it is cannon that he went to Dol Guldur more than once, but each time Sauron simply ran and hid. This would be one of those times, and also something to feed his obvious, though justified paranoia about the dark lord returning.


	16. Taint

~=Eitho nin=~

~Aid Me~

Taint

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

(Alandaer is here because I need him, always! No one can make me stop at this point)

AN: So, some readers suggested a few song to me for this story and i love it so much! Winter Bird by Aurora is one and I listened to it the other night, I thought it fit very well with the last chapter and this one.

Also, Crows &amp; Locusts by Brooke Fraser was suggested for Loki. This is turning into a song fic, almost! But I do get inspiration by listening to music so it is fitting.

* * *

The Sinda had been of a foul mood since burrowing into his papers. Every visitor was wary of the hazardous area and in need of a thick hide if they were to leave the room unscathed. It was the general assumption that his mood was caused by the very unwelcome visitor from Dol Guldur, and it was, though he had many reasons for his temper. The way even the prince entered was on careful steps and with downcast gaze. Behind him, Tauriel stayed close, though she held her chin aloft in a nearly flawless front of confidence. Both bowed in turn, postures tight and guarded.

Ignoring the elleth was very much intentional and he spared her not a glance to ensure she knew all was not forgiven.

Thranduil was yet in no mood to relieve the tension of anyone, "Legolas... where might I begin? What explanation could you offer me that would adequately impart your reasoning for leaving a royal guest unguarded during an attack? Making no clear effort to stay by the side of one without weapon or manner of defense to her person? Running off instead with my former Captain of the Guard with no thought to her safety? An act which lead directly to an enemy attack!"

"That is not exactly the way it happened, Adar!" Legolas stepped forward, deep, defensive frown creasing his forehead.

"I left her in your care!" Thranduil's eyes blazed with live embers of rage, "What were you thinking?"

Legolas dipped his head, eyes to the ground, "I... did not mean to allow harm to come to her. It was unthinking of me to take my eyes from her. I know that the blame falls on my shoulders."

"Yes, it does!" The Elvenking snapped.

"Blame for this falls equally with me, my lord. " Tauriel took a steady step forward, "It was I that ordered the nest cleared before checking the grounds surrounding to be sure no one else was about."

"Indeed, caution was left aside by all!" The Elvenking finally turned his eyes on her, a nearly wicked smile threatening to crease his face, "This is the way of complacency but we must endeavor to do better for peace will not last for eternity, my children. This day has proven just how delicate the balance is. We cannot afford further mistakes least we allow our kingdom to fall from beneath our feet. " The Elvenking was slowly slipping back into his more stoic persona, voice working toward his usual even tone.

The two elves fell utterly silent, only watching him pace slowly over the floor, so he continued after a moment, "Though it was fortuitous that we so happened to have a wizard in our midst upon the arrival of our newest enemy."

"We were most fortunate." Legolas agreed, quick to placate, but missing the underlying point.

Tauriel narrowed her eyes, having picked up the insinuation after so long hearing similar debates from the king, "You think Mithrandir provoked the attack? Orchestrated it?"

Legolas' eyes widened, "No, he would not do such a thing! He would not call evil upon us, he is a friend."

"A friend that is not above risking the lives of those that trust him if it might draw forth what he seeks." Thranduil mused, "You know how insistent he was that we journey from behind our walls."

"He could not have known! We saw no warnings of this." Legolas insisted firmly. "He saved us, saved you! How can you accuse him of being part of it?"

"Not a part of it, merely of pulling strings for an outcome." Thranduil shook his head slowly, "We were used in order to bring forth his latest opponent, as a way to draw out a beast from the shadows. Mithrandir never visits without cause. He does nothing without intent behind it, which is why none can truly trust him. The Maia cannot be fully trusted which is why we remain cautious and share little with them."

"If we shared more easily, perhaps they would not cause us so many problems." Legolas looked to be in a stubborn mood, "Perhaps he did allow it, but in doing so, did he not show us the danger we were in? As we are so mistrustful, perhaps he thought to show us danger rather than tell us. We did need to know more about the Necromancer."

"When he orchestrates our deaths I will attempt to remember that he meant well." Thranduil nodded, saying no more. His son was so young and so trusting it disturbed him. "Report back to me once the wizard has returned. I would speak with him once he is sighted."

Dismissing them, he stood still and silent, staring idly at the wall. There was a bone deep rage coiled inside him and it refused to abate. It roiled and thrashed at him for attention, making his heart race and his teeth clench without understanding why. It was true he had cause for his anger but the fury felt like a fire burning under his skin, consuming more and more even as he strove to extinguish it. Perhaps he should have remained longer in the healing room.

The old scar throbbed vengefully, increasing in frequency the longer he ignored it. The blinded eye felt as if it swelled and retreated with each beat of his heart. It made him wish to crawl out of his own skin to escape the unfortunate affliction. There seemed to be a need for treatment, whatever it was that inflamed it so. While he was there, he could assure himself that Loki was still progressing well. Thought of her only stirred guilt within him and made his scar throb anew, enough to make him hang his head and close his eyes until it eased. The Sinda snarled at the empty room, sweeping toward the door.

The healer surely knew he would be forced to return even before he had the chance to exit the room. It was more than a bit irksome but there was nothing for it. He could hardly focus or keep himself from hiding his face in his hands to abate the tightening sensations. Still, it was nothing compared to what happened to Loki. This much, if not a great deal more, he was only too deserving of.

He should have put an enchantment in the necklace to protect her from his kingdom as well as to protect it from her.

* * *

The old Sindarin healer was stood before Loki's bedside, persuading her unconscious figure to swallow something. The others had long ago been treated. Some were injured and confined to their beds but most had taken very light damage. The report had come from Cíldaer an hour ago, along with the necklace, now sitting on the corner of his table to be dealt with later. Loki was so still, eyes closed, body limp as a broken blade of grass. Her color was better and there was no longer a blue tint to her skin, meaning at least she was warm, and hopefully comfortable. She looked disturbingly like a corpse none the less, with only slight motion in the rise a fall of her chest. Her clothing had been switched for robes at some point and that did not help. Part of him longed to scoop her up and hold her in his arms just to feel her breaths and feel that she was still living.

What would he do if she never regained consciousness? He had seen it happen when his people were simply too damaged; they fell into a deep sleep and faded from existence after a time no matter how well cared for they were. Sometimes they could be awakened, Mithrandir was known to be able to call even Eldar fëar back to hröa.

Again, he did not turn around when the Elvenking entered nor indicate he noticed but there was no question he had. As a child, Thranduil had made it a game to try to slip around the elder ellon, seeing if he might be able to fool those unerring senses of his. He had been so intent to see him mother, sick as she had been, so he took such care to enter in total silence, sure he could slip by. It never worked even once. It had seemed a game then when he had not understood the reasons he was being kept out. He understood soon enough after a week passed and she resurfaced from the room with no baby brother or sister in her arms and a vacant look in her eyes. It was also that point when he learned that even Alandaer could not save everyone.

The healer spoke without any warning, making Thranduil start, "You use anger as a shield, you always have, but it does you no service now. The darkness feeds upon it and clings to you all the longer for it. You were not discovered in time to cleans the wood from the darkness of that dragon of Morgoth, so it is never difficult for the residual scar to... reopen, in a sense. Though your glamour did not slip, the wound still suffers. It opens a door you can never close to it."

"Then why did you not treat me when I was hear?"

"I could not have treated you before because you did not believe you were injured. You would have hindered any attempts for me to cleanse your injury. In your case, with your strong will, I can only help you if you allow me." The calmness of his voice did not denote the command, "You must remain in the healing rooms until the infection is purged."

"You seem to be under the impression that you have a right to imprison me in my own kingdom." Thranduil replied waspishly, not liking a single word he had heard.

"I have every right to do exactly that." Alandaer turned from his place and glided toward him with intent in his dark eyes, "I brought you into this world, helped you take your first breath..." his voice darkened but it was of a playful nature rather than true threat, "and I can escort you right back out, so do as I say before you tempt me."

The defensive front slipped away in the face of the healer's calm, the anger that had been such a constant companion fizzled and he found his shoulders relaxing. "I am ever the very image of cooperation." Thranduil smiled slightly when the healer scoffed.

"You are more delusional than I thought."

Thranduil shook his head, "You are lucky I hold you in such high regard." He shifted his attention, eyes sweeping over her unmoving form, "But how is she?"

"Progressing better than you are."

"She does not look it. Has she woken?"

"Not yet but I expect she will soon." The older ellon tipped his head in her direction, "I am sure she would be glad to see you when she awakens."

"Doubtful. She may blame me for the events that caused this. Unfortunately she does not hold me in high enough regard to trust me." It was with some effort that he ignored the spikes of pain blooming over the nerves across his forehead and down his neck.

"You do not give yourself credit. I have seen the way she looks at you. I believe you might be the only one in our province or beyond that she does trust. " Alandaer looked pointedly at him, that secret look he developed when he thought he had all the answers.

"Be that as it may, it is unlikely to be enough." He swallowed thickly, turning his chin down to focus on the floor, "If I modify the necklace to protect her as well as hinder her abilities..."

"You need not bother. From what I have heard she has already found a way to circumvent the inhibitor." The healer sighed, glancing skyward, as if silently pleading for wisdom or tolerance, "Why can you not simply admit you do not wish to force it on her? Do you think protesting will make you look less pained at the prospect of driving her further away? You are allowed to wish for her good will."

Thranduil barked a sharp, bitter laugh that could not be mistaken for mirth, "When have I been so free as to wish for anything? I am not free to do as I wish, not so long as I have a kingdom to care for. You should understand."

Alandaer's chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh, "My king, I know **well** how heavily the lives of your kin weigh upon you. It is a heavy thing to rest upon your shoulders and was put there much too soon. You were made careful by the grief you were forced to see, eyes opened to the fragility of every last life entrusted to you, bringing you to valuing them above all else. It made you cautious to take any action that could potentially endanger those lives and that is not wrong." The sensation of the ellon's aura swelled and wound around him reassuringly, comforting the swell of long buried misery the thoughts stirred, "However, there are times you must also look without. You must not forget that other lives matter as well."

"How might I look without, offering even slight aid to others when I cannot aid my own? I cannot protect her. It was proven to me today that I am not, and never shall be, enough. I cannot stave off the darkness from my land... nor even those directly in my grasp." Thranduil sighed, smiling bitterly to himself at the admission, "I am not Galadriel. I am fading, weakening, things are slipping from my grasp too quickly to be called back."

Alandaer grasped his chin in his fingers and forced him to look up, "None expect you to stand above the only daughter of Finarfin, cousin of Lúthien! Of all things you should expect of yourself! None left on this side of Valinor hold footing against one of the Ñoldo." Even the healer could not speak the last word without a slight crinkling of his nose. While the Lady of Lórien played no part in the Kingslaying, none of their people could quite speak of any connected to Fëanor without a hint of disgust. "I dare say, even Rivendell will begin to wither under the taint one day."

Thranduil tilted his head away, "You mean to sooth me thus? With talk of such dark thoughts?"

"I mean to be forthcoming, but I veered from my intended meaning." Alandaer's hand rested heavily on his shoulder, "You make decisions, your people look to you as a guide. They believe in you, rightly. Do not allow them to dictate to you what you believe is best. A leader heeds the words of the people, yes, but do not allow them to lead you to what you feel is wrong. Follow your instincts in regard to her."

Thranduil's eyes fell and remained on Loki, "I have yet to decide what is right."

"When you need to know, it will come to you." Alandaer proceeded to unceremoniously pluck the crown from his head and set it aside on a near table but Thranduil could not find it in himself to care. "Just be grateful I let you leave the first time to take care of your duties."

"You knew I would be back." The Sinda was prodded into a chair but he did not protest.

"I know many things. Such as; it is time you listened to me." The healer replied flippantly, hands moving to hover around Thranduil's head, "This will be unpleasant, initially."

Gentle, cool hands settled around his head and behind his neck, cradling it between the healer's palms. Thranduil tried to brace himself, a distant part of his mind informing him that he should hold onto the chair, so he locked his fingers onto the arms. There was a warmth surfacing, like skin warming skin, but it increased rather rapidly until it was very suddenly like fire.

He could not help the startled cry as the pain increased and instinct had him pressing into the chair back, trying to pull away. I felt like hot metal claws sunk into his skin, pulling and twisting, jerking at his eye before going deeper. The healers grip did not waver, no doubt very used to resistance. Thranduil released the chair with one hand to sink his fingers into the white robes to ground himself and remind him not to struggle, the other remained a vice on the wooden arm. A dormant memory surfaced suddenly; of being prone on a table, pain clouding his every sense, but clinging tightly to Alandaer's hand as if it was the only thing in the world holding him together. He chased the memory, trying to place where it came from; was he doing that now without realizing it, he could not remember.

His body arch like a bow as he felt Alandaer's magia reaching, tugging, diving into his very Fëar. His body and mind screamed for him to flee as the fire burned, burning deep and white hot. His Fëar writhed, seeming now to realize and feel the darkness that had slowly seeped in like an infection. Just now, he thought he would prefer the infection if it ceased burning him alive. Blood soaked the hills before him, stretching without end, the blood of his kin mingled with water and dirt. It stained his eyes, branded forever.

He bit back a sob, almost gagging on it and a stream of begging for an end. The darkness of that creature, the remaining function of his mind realized, had attacked him so subtly and slowly he had not realized he should fight it; entering like smoke in the lungs, unpleasant but forgot quickly; after all, the taint had been at his feet long enough he almost viewed it as normal, a little more prickling his sense had not brought him to realize what was happening. The pain in his scar had been his Fëar warning and struggling against the cloud in his mind, a physical demonstration of the stress on his being.

Thranduil twitched violently when the burning in his head increased impossibly, "St-nnn..." he grit his teeth to suppress the weakness driven words.

"Hang on, just a little more. It's trying to hold on but we won't let it." Alandaer soothed, and Eru help him, he believed Alandaer.

He always believed this ellon, the way he had blindly believed his father. There had never come a day when the healer had been far removed from him. Having been the head healer since he could remember, and one of Oropher's advisers, Thranduil never considered questioning his words. There had always been a select few he trusted unerringly. Perhaps that was foolish when he was so careful with his trust normally. Perhaps Alandaer had been waiting for the chance to act. Now would be a good time, when his choices were in question, his reputation wavering since Loki. If he planned to kill a king, now might be opportune.

The healer and the Aesir could be working together. As a plot, it was undeniably a good one. Perhaps they would force Legolas into the position because he was inexperienced and oh so trusting. Even the Istar might be part of it, always scheming away over one thing or another.

Thranduil drew in a sharp breath through his nose when he saw flames sparked and branch out in a wide, familiar arc. Black hair swayed at the edge of his vision and he turned to focus on it, shying away from the flames to move closer to the cooling breeze. Loki stood tall, skin blue with cold of death, eyes filled with blood, and she would not look his direction; ice and snow spread around her, branching out and covering everything near her like a sheet. When she finally turned her face to him, her eyes returned to their green but her skin did not warm, though her dark expression softened.

His body sagged as a cooling sensation washed in like a wave, a balm to quench the flames. It spread like a torrent, flooding every raw and injured crack and crevice, fëar and hröa. He shivered from the wonderful contrast but he notice quickly how his limbs tingled, fingers slow to respond when he tried to release the chair. His jaw ached from how tightly he had clenched his teeth in an effort to remain quiet and still. How long had it lasted?

"Unpleasant initially?" Thranduil rasped, voice a little raw from just how hard he fought not to speak or make a sound.

"All healers lie slightly, for a good cause. But you feel better now, do you not? It was only a very slight lie." The healer continued to cradle the Elvenking's head, rubbing circles at his temples with his thumbs. "Now you must rest."

Thranduil pulled away, forcing himself to his unsteady feet, "I have no time for rest. There is much to attend to. You have cured me, and I thank you, but I cannot simply stay here." He very much wanted to be out of this room. His body swayed, vision graying, a fuzzy sensation prickling his mind to slow his thought.

"You will make time, for I shall not allow you to do otherwise. The kingdom may be yours, but in this place, I make the rules, and I ensure they are heeded. It is not my custom to allow any to leave before treatment is finished, and you are not cured quite yet. " Alandaer insisted blithely.

The strong fingers flexed reassuringly, curling under the Elvenking's arms for support. When he looked, he found Alandaer at one side and Cíldaer on his other, though he had absolutely no idea when the younger ellon entered the room.

"There is much I must do! I would speak with the wizard upon his return, which I imagine will be soon! Much is yet to be done in regard to-" Thranduil's litany was cut short.

"I will see to everything while you remain here to recover. You are not yet your usual temperament so I believe Alandaer has cause to continue his work until you are."

"Traitor! " Thranduil hissed as the two lead him bodily to the table beside Loki.

"No, my lord, never, but I am not one to overlook wisdom when it is being offered. I am to look after you, so I shall." Cíldaer informed him, just a little too amused to be proper.

The Sinda was too tired to fight them bodily but his tongue was still functioning, "You are supposed to obey my orders, not Alandaer's!"

"I shall do so with all enthusiasm once you have recovered." Cíldaer sounded so sincere but the smile on his lips was clear indication of his amusement, but what could be expected from the grandchild of the insufferable healer if not that?

"At times I forget you studied in the healing rooms before you joined my guard. Alandaer has been a terrible influence." Resistance faded further once they had guided him remarkably quickly atop the soft surface of the table, though he honestly did not know how he ended up there, but he knew they were toying with his sense at this point.

"Well, I thought I should know more about protecting my king than simple sword play if I intended undertaking the task." In this setting, Cíldaer was fully in control, calm and without a hint of nervousness he was normally plagued by. This was his true element, "You need not fear, I shall take care of everything while you are here. Once you have rested, you will feel much better. I'm certain your mood will improve as well. "

"Healers all lie slightly, I have been told. Though do not think a rest will cause me to forget that comment." Thranduil informed his young guard, irritated even as he felt the tug of sleep he had no doubt they were assisting him into.

"We look forward to your remembering. Though I do believe your father made similar threats against my person when this occurred, for he too was stubborn, yet I encountered no issues." Alandaer crooned as he spread a blanket across the Sinda.

* * *

The rage was unlike anything she felt before, bone deep, cutting her apart; or perhaps that was the pain. Everything felt too hot and too cold all at once, needles driving into her skin. She wanted to die, a thousand times over if it meant this monster could be purged from her blood, but she wanted more than that! She wanted a head removed, either way! Death would be welcome, but she came to the realization suddenly that she should bring him with her. It was strange that it had not occurred to her before. Miss him the first time, she may have, but this time she would draw blood. They all deserved to die! One big, happy family!

She snarled, whirling on her knees to look at Laufy, but his form seemed strange now, unstable. So he was dead, haunting her. No matter. The ice crackled and shattered as she stood and he retreated farther back. It was then that she saw the second figure, a shadowy thing without precise shape. Another ghost, perhaps! They should have stayed dead!

"Stand down!" The second, dark entity growled in a whisper full of malice, "You have no power in this place. You will bow before me!" Perhaps it belonged to Hella and it had come to collect them, and it could do so, but only after she had her way. She had waited long enough for revenge!

"I will not! I will destroy you both! Rip you to pieces until there is nothing left for the grave to have!" She hissed back, sorrow turned to spite, because that was what she did best.

"You cannot." It stated firmly, letting go what she thought might have been a laugh.

Loki jolted back when a wave of fire lunged at her, the ice hissed and crackled from the sudden temperature shift. Laufey's form wavered as well, like he was battling to stay. The other creature must have been his anchor so if she cut the anchor, he would be banished back to his rightful place! Heat rolled around her like a storm over the waters but her response came without thought as she lifted her hands to ward the flames away. The ice crashed around her violently, spreading its influence like a virus to freeze all in its path. When a new wave of fire rose, she let out a wordless battle cry, sending all she had in a brutal onslaught of snow and ice. Perhaps it would frighten her how freeing it felt or how easy it had been to control, but for the moment she felt invigorated by her own acts of fury. She could heart only the hiss of ice and fire wound in a battle to the death, and she pored that much more into it.

It was only then that she began to feel something, a tightness spreading over her like her bones suddenly aged beyond the speed of time to lock in place. Darkness rolled in with the flames, thick and impenetrable. She choked on its thickness even as her collar tightened, biting into her like jaws. It must have adjusted, realized she was still using magic, likely because of how much she had used. Still, she did not feel weakened, only deeper entrenched in pain, so she lashed out all the more violently, sending her cold harbingers of death toward the two creatures as fast and hard as she could. The ice became her daggers and the snow her mist of magic. Had any seen her now they might have thought her a wild creature from the depths.

Wild or not, the flames retreated and the figures began to move away; only to be replaced by dark clouds so heavy she could feel their weight. Her ice went through it, never touching it. Fear began to claw at her, circling her like a living thing, choking the breath from her no matter how she gasped for it. The inhibitor coiled power around her, curling her magic she sent forth to protect her back like withering vines.

"You will be mine to command..." the whispered voice echoed around her, only now it sounded more like Laufey.

"Never!" She shrieked back, clawing at the darkness even as she crumpled to her knees, "I will destroy you!" Not that it was looking promising but she had always been one to say one thing even while she knew differently.

"You will be a weapon at my command, bent to my will, just as all others fall."

"You..." she panted, her magic railing against the confinement with all she had in her, "have never battled with me! I do not fall!"

"You already have." The shadowy figure stated bluntly, but she noticed that he was still moving away rather than forward.

"Then you do not know me so well as you think!" In a single burst, she sent her power, the little magic she slipped through her binding, and the raw power of cold birth, directly for his head.

She knew not if she connected, she only knew her own pain and the voice of her father roaring in her world turned black and much too loud, splitting her head into a thousand pieces, all throbbing with agony. Her sierd writhed like a snake with the head severed, and she thought she felt her body doing the same. Raw, bleeding limbs were left to her of her magic, everything that had been sent out returned bloodied and severed if it returned at all. Sharp claws sunk into her skin at her neck and dug until they found her skull, wrapping around the edges and pulling to shatter it from the inside. Her fingers gripped at her head, trying to hold it in one and block out the horrible sounds in turn. Blinded, she could only shuffle her feet uselessly over the ground to try to escape, but she knew not where to go. Clutching for her weapons was of no use, for they were gone. It hurt so much, and his voice would not stop ringing in her mind, repeating everything he had said to her again and again in litany.

"Loki!" A voice called, and it was familiar, she knew that voice, trusted it somewhere in her mind.

A warm hand touched her and she registered someone holding her. Perhaps her father had returned to finish her off, and in this pain, she only hoped he did so quickly. But it did not feel like the Jotunn king, not at all, it was kind hands holding her. Though it was a man the touch was tender and careful rather than rough the way her brother would have been.

This person was no threat to her, she knew that somehow. She was glad he had come but perhaps she should not be, for the other two must still be near. It was doubtful that she had managed to kill them. Still, she let this gentle man move her, hold her, speak questions to her that she had no strength to answer. If she told him anything, she would tell him to leave her and run far away, but she was selfish and did not say it.

Her eyelids fluttered open and there was stone above her, plants and draping too. This room was a familiar one..

"Good." A low, calming voice announced, "you are coming around."

"Around what?" Loki asked, her voice scratchy like sand had been rubbed over her vocals.

A low chuckle was her reward, "Back where you belong, my dear."

Where she belonged? Was there such a place? She let her head loll to one side and she saw white robes beside her, but she did not bother to follow them to a face. Instead she closed her eyes to the brightness of the room that contrasted the darkness of her dreams too sharply. She was more a creature suited for darkness anyway, not light. She had lived in darkness all her life, be they shadows of her brother or secrets, it was all that same.

"I do not belong anywhere. I am the wind and need nothing." She offered in hopes of sounding less unsure.

"Well, even the wind does rest, and you would do well to have a little more." His voice was so low, like a lullaby, sleep itself singing to her and pulling her deeper into blissful places without pain or sadness. She could hope to never return from such a place.

"Will you kill me?" Loki asked, voice thick and slurred this time.

A hand rested on the crown of her head, gentle and soothing, banishing pain, "No, I will never do you harm, child."

"I want to die." She confessed softly, her tongue heavy, "Living hurts too much... besides, you would be doing my brother a great favor. I am sure he would reward you."

A heavy sigh was his reply at first, but then, "I know another that would agree with you, about life being too painful, yet he continues on each day. Some would say that brave men do not fear death, they rush into battle without looking back. They say that is courage... but... it is those that live in spite of pain that have true courage. Courage is not so well defined as people think, it is small kindnesses, and waking up each morning for many. "

"Heros are courageous, but I am not one of them. I am nothing like a hero." She was unsure he could understand her as much as she had slurred her words, but he had.

"Real heros never believe themselves to be, it is only ever others than can see it in occasion, it takes time for the courage to show itself."

And that was all she heard. After that she allowed the dreams to have her back and she let them take her where they wished. She liked that man and perhaps she would remember him later. If nothing else, she would remember his voice. The darkness claimed her though, and it lead her where she did not wish to go, down where that voice was nothing but a figment of remembered light. She belong in the dark, she always had, it was the only place that would take her willingly.

* * *

Thranduil sat still and stiff upon the bench, his back pressed against the wall to prop himself up. The pages in his hands had been kindly brought to him once he awakened. His body was not yet recovered, still tired and unsteady like he had been reduced to infancy, or perhaps gone without rest a century or two, but his mind was clear. At last he felt himself again, the veil lifted and his emotions under a far better control. The burning rage had turned to vapors and he supposed he would have need of mending quite a few bridges he had set fire to in his questionable state. Legolas would be one in particular he would need to speak with.

Though he considered his anger to have been less than unfounded, his methods had been lacking in tact. He had no intention of following through with some of the threats he had made to his subordinates. They made mistakes, yes, but he had all but threatened death sentences on a few of them when they offered report. In retrospect, he had been very mild with Legolas and Tauriel in comparison, though such was generally the case. His son would resent him no less, however, particularly if he heard any of the things he said to those of the squad. Each time they came to a semblance of a truce, something set them back again, and this time would be no different. He dreaded that particularly, as much as he dreaded any news the wizard might offer.

Though Mithrandir had yet to return, having stayed out all night and past the morning, there was no way to know where he had gone or when he might decide to return. Searching was not worth opening the borders. Risks could be taken, but not yet, not until he knew more of what he would be sending his people into. If he had fallen so easily he cared not discover what would happen to the younger, less experienced of them; so many of them had never encountered such horrors and he would spare them that if he could. The Witch King of Angmar was not to be trifled with, wraith or otherwise, if indeed it was him.

He threw one lanky leg over the other, shifting for comfort as he read the same line he had a few moments before. Focusing on any one thing was difficult when his mind traveled so many different roads all at once. His mind was restless and circling round and round like a caged animal but he could do very little about it when he had nothing of value to work from.

Loki shifted, her hands clenching at the blankets and he wondered, not for the first time, what horrors she must be dreaming of. Even with the medicine she had been given she had not rested, at least not peacefully. Since he had wakened she had not seemed to truly be still. Behind closed lids her eyes darted frantically, her lips often forming words in a language he did not understand. The names she whispered were familiar, however, and he could only guess from there.

In all honesty, it was less from Alandaer's insistence and more from his worry over her that he had remained in the healing room. She appeared tortured but his words did not reach her where she was now and if she noticed his touch it was only very distantly. There was nothing he could do for her but remain near in the even she returned to a place he could reach; until then, she was lost, and he would never admit it aloud, but it pained him far more than he would have expected a mere few days before. Somehow she had been getting under his skin without his notice, the healer was right. When she screamed he was helpless to stay away, unable to prevent himself from holding her hands and whispering comfort until it passed even though he was sure she did not know. Alandaer assured him she was regaining herself but he had yet to see evidence. A battle was waging inside her, he had said, and eventually she would return stronger from it. Eru help her, he hoped it was true, and he prayed for it.

What he had seen while he was lost to himself was of a particular concern. He remembered the vision clearly but he could not yet conclude what it should mean. It might have been indication that she was never to return to them as she had been, perhaps too damaged to recover, or it could have been indication of what she could do. He worried it meant that she would perish, now or later, because of his foolishness, but he knew not how to stop it. There was very little he did know, only that there were terrible things to come. She had not smiled, he remembered that, but her expression when she looked at him was what he could not brush aside. It had been only an instant but he had seen something... perhaps it frightened him as much as the deathly color of her skin.

That look alone made him realize what he had done to her. If she recovered there would be much to speak of, much he would need to ask and likely tell her in return. Perhaps they could work through whatever had happened and then they could move forward, working together. If she blamed him for the incident he was not yet sure what he might do. At first he had supposed her responses would tell him whether or not he would have need to lock her away again, but the thought tasted bitter. Understanding had come to him slowly that he should let her go, if she was capable of leaving. They did not yet know if she could return to her own world for there was no proof of a gate. If it were one directional he could not even allow her that small mercy, but he should try; allow her to find that gate if it was there. He had not taken her out to look for it because he feared the loss of his chances to gain alliance but that was far from right. It was time he trusted her word, trusted her promises. The vision might have been telling him to let her go before he destroyed her as he destroyed so many things before. When she recovered, he decided, he would leave it to the Valar whether or not she returned to help them. She had a kingdom to protect as well and he had forgotten that in his quest to protect his own. Perhaps the healer had been trying to remind him of that before.

A sudden sound drew him back from his thoughts, pulling his eyes from the parchment to land on Loki. Her body was far from steady, but she was on her feet, eyes glazed and wide without semblance of recognition. A flick of her wrist and the staff he had returned to her earlier was in her hand, shifting shapes round the large orb, morphing into a sharp spear point where it had been rounded before. His sword was no longer with him, placed near the door and out of his reach, he realized with a sick sort of dread. Weak as they both were, she still held him at a disadvantage. He might have been better recovered, but she was armed and free to use her skills again. His heart fluttered with a slight pang of fear where it had never been in regards to her before; he had feared for the safety of others when he looked at her once, but he had never feared for himself. Now, looking into her wild eyes, he wondered if he might have taken too long to decide if she might be dangerous.

Regardless, he stood slowly, palms extended to prove a lack of weapon, "Loki..." he said simply, warning in his tone.

He was by no means helpless, even without a weapon, but what could he do? If she forced him could he really harm her? Her skin was nearly without color, her stance wide to remain standing when it was clearly a struggle, and she seemed so small as if she might cave in on herself. The look in her eyes was lost and distant, fear clouded around the edges. In this moment she did not know him, so how could he harm her when any further damage might be her end? They could well end up killing each other, and for no purpose whatsoever. The thought of hurting her... he shied away from it as he would a blazing inferno. She did not deserve to be hurt any further but he could not very well stand still.

"Loki?" Thranduil gentled his voice as he had when they were in the woods, "please put it down." He did not wish to make a decision in this case, choosing between harm coming to her or himself. He was unsure what he might ultimately decide. Though he could not let her leave the room as she was, he knew that, if nothing more.

At the edges of her eyes, lingering on her black lashes, there were traces of water welling without slipping free.

* * *

AN:To be honest, I meant to have this out last week, but things happened irl and I just couldn't pull it together. I just didn't have the emotional capacity, or muse to finish writing. I had a lot already written so I thought I'd make it, but I just didn't have it. My chapters suffered, I know. I promised you better than last time but it just didn't happen, so I'm sorry for the quality.

For this chapter, I'm going to let you decide from two options about Laufey. First, Laufey could really have been there lying to her. Brought around with necromancer powers to be her tormentor, him following the blood bond they have and working from it. Second, it was Sauron creating illusions and her own mind produced her dead father and what she believed he would say, her deepest fears and nightmares brought to the surface, what she thinks about herself being drawn from her mind. I may or may not bring to light what happened later, I don't really know if it will play in, so for now, you pick your poison.


	17. Ameliorate

~=Eitho nin=~

~Aid Me~

Ameliorate

*Tolkien/Jackson

-Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Gandalf

*Marvel

-Lady Loki

Dreaming Wide Awake by Poets of the Fall

* * *

Loki's black lashes fluttered, beads of salt water clinging to them. She looked at him with such intensity he knew she must be trying desperately to regain herself and perhaps persuade her mind to recognize the elf before her. Thranduil remained perfectly still, watching as the tip of the spear lowered fractionally. Her emerald eyes were no less wild or fearful but there was something vulnerable bleeding into them as she took a step forward. She flinched instantly, pain flashing across her features and her head tilted forward as if it felt too heavy on her shoulders.

Her free hand reached out and clutched the blanket on the table, leaning heavily on the sturdy surface. By no means was she well but this was at least a sign she might be on her way to a recovery. She was awake and she was functioning marginally, which he feared might never come. While she slept she had been far, far away where none could find her. At least now she was returning.

"Loki?" Thranduil prompted again very gently and quietly.

She looked up through her lashes at him, "It hurts..." she confided softly, desperately innocent in that moment.

He took the risk, moving slowly toward her, palms held out for her to see, "You were injured. Do you remember?"

She gave no answer, only watched him step closer and closer to her. The staff did not so much as twitch toward him so he guessed it was sign enough that she was not readying to swing it. He could not deny the tension in his body, muscles ready to spring away if she suddenly attacked, but somehow he believed she would not harm him. When she was at the lowest he had ever seen her, she allowed him close; he felt it would work a second time. If it did he might be able to fully call her back to him rather than allowing her to languish as she was. He knew what those dark places felt like.

His feet brought him up before her, close enough to touch her, but he waited, hesitant to push her too much. If he allowed her time, taking slow actions, she would feel less threatened. The staff was dangling at her side, still gripped in her fingers, but with little threat in the posture she held. He caught and held her eyes, willing her to understand.

Her body shifted forward, sagging into his arms, her head nestling on his shoulder, the point of her nose brushing at the crook of his neck. The tension in his muscles relaxed as well when she whispered his name. He pulled her against him, taking her weight to let it distribute onto him rather than force her to trying to continue to struggle. She locked her knees and let him support what she was unable to.

After a moment his fingers found their way into her hair, massaging very carefully while he held her up with his other arm. She sank even closer, her free hand curling up in his robes. Her nose felt like ice against his neck but it warmed the longer it stayed there. Silence hung around them but it was a pleasant one, something neither seemed willing to disturb for a time.

"What do you remember?" He whispered into the shell of her ear, lips brushing feather light over the skin there when he spoke.

It took her so long to answer that he almost thought she had not heard but finally a quiet mutter into his skin: "The spiders attacked."

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"How did you find me?" Loki muttered a question of her own, lips brushing over his throat with each word, the touch of them cool and nearly enough to make him shiver.

Her body slumped a bit further in his arms, forcing him to the realization that she was still struggling even with his support. When he shifted her, she was pliant, even limp when he scooped her up; he was not sure it was testament to her vulnerability or her trust in him. Regardless, he could not help noticing that her staff was gone. It was no longer in her hand but it had also not dropped to the floor. Something in his mind informed him that a display of raw ability such as that should have concerned him.

While she might struggle with her strength of body she was not lacking in her mastery of skills. She was decidedly powerful, deadly so, even when she looked ready to fall unconscious any moment. How much power would she have if allowed a total recovery? Perhaps enough to rival a wizard... possibly enough to equal Galadriel. Incredible. He could feel that power in her, alive and active, the very being of it ticking his senses.

"The moment I knew you were missing I began searching." He told her simply, not sure himself what had drawn him in the correct direction or why he found her before any others searching. He had found her and that was all that mattered.

Loki nodded against him, taking his word easily, "Who... or what was he? That creature in the woods?"

"A necromancer..." Thranduil stopped instantly when he felt her stiffen and whisper a quiet; "that would explain it" that sounded pained and impossibly bitter. "Sauron's servant long ago." He finished slowly, unsure how much to say.

Carefully, he settled her back onto the table and covered her frail body once again. Green, haunted eyes watched his every single motion, nearly making his fingers tremble with an apprehension he could not name. What he wished most to know was what had caused such a look, such a hollow depth of sadness and absolute desolation of hope. What had that monster done?

Her fingers shuffled out from the blanket and captured his own in a desperate hold, her eyes never leaving his. Thranduil's throat threatened to close as he stared back. A single word -broken- came to mind when he looked at her now that he never would have put to her before and it made his chest tighten horribly.

"What happened?" And it came out sounding far more quiet and distressed than he expected, because she was not supposed to suffer any more than she already had.

While he had not thought it possible, the look in her eyes, the bone deep despair worsened and she said nothing, tightened her hold instead. Again, he supposed she would not answer, but then; "I saw my father..." and she laughed a bark of bitter, madness rooted emotion, giddy but without humor, "or what appeared to be. He tired to kill me. But so did the other one, the one with fire."

Thranduil's mind turned round in sudden confused terror, like an unknown jolt of pain he should recognize. Those words struck a fear in him he could not quite understand or place reason to. It also tightened his chest that much farther in sympathy for what must have put that look in her eyes. He could not fathom what it would be like, the betrayal, to have had something appearing as his father with malicious intent upon him. Were he like humans and their incessant gambling, he would wager much had been done to her by the apparition that she would never speak of. The wreckage of the area he found her in would speak to that. Including her brief mention of fire. The earth was frozen over, but charred beneath. Quite the battle had taken place, her fight for her life against a cruel ghost of a familiar face. It was sickening to consider over long.

Perhaps he should ask no more of her for now, "How are you feeling?" The tips of his fingers found a strand of her raven curls to work between them. "You were rather incoherent when I found you. Alandaer has worked tirelessly for your recovery."

The intense green eyes narrowed at him; vulnerability draining slowly to be replaced by the usual wariness and shrewd calculation. At least that would mean she was not as far gone as he first feared. Still, they were lackluster compared to what he had grown accustomed to gazing into.

"And you took up the vigil in his absence? The king of the Woodland realm chose to watch over such an unworthy subject rather than tend the multitude of other duties you must have waiting?" She arched a brow playfully at him but there was a wrongness to it, too many hints of forced expression and dullness in her eyes for him to ignore. "How honored should I be?"

She was attempting to seem normal and well but she was far from it. The teasing was forced and false, not to mention deflection. A small, nagging twist fluttered in his stomach. When had he begun to know her so well? When had he really begun to know her true smile from the forced ones? It seemed obvious to him now, looking at her like this, but perhaps that was because he had seen her with the skillful masks dropped away. She was terribly skilled at the farce but he could see the drastic lack of life in the lie.

But she was fishing for information too. Loki was ever the cunning and guarded creature; he doubted he might ever see her as unguarded as he had moments ago. There was something lost and dark creeping around her now, something tainted and tinged with bitterness of a colder nature rather than the raw openness. He was struck with the sudden impression that she was teetering on the edge of something, an abyss of her own and she could fall entirely too easily; if she fell he did not know if he would get her back this time. They were very much alike, he supposed, for he often seemed to be walking a similar line, precariously perched above something like insanity; if he took a wrong step... Mildly, he wondered if they might not just fall together if one of them slipped. Having stayed at her side for so many hours he began to realize that he was not quite sure how he would have recovered had she never woken; that shrouded understanding was a thing he did not know what to make of.

"A perquisite, or perhaps ameliorate for being king. One decides for themselves what is important to attend."

Loki nodded, still smiling that painful imitation of mirth, "There do have to be a few advantages. If not, we would all simply give up such aspirations of ruling. It has yet to seem as grand a thing as others suppose."

"Few things ever meet the expectation, I believe. Once realized, goals or aspirations are never exactly as any would have supposed."

Her expression turned fleetingly baleful, "I never wanted to rule." The admission was quiet but with it returned the more playful expression intended to hide her true feelings, "Did you?"

"No, I never did, but there was little choice." The admission was ash on his tongue as he felt sure it was for her.

The Elvenking found himself at a loss for what to say next. The current topic was too bitter for either of them but the only thing on his mind would be no less unpleasant for her. There was little he could say that would not seem to be an attempt to force more information from her than she might have been ready to offer. She was not one to be forced and he had done too much damage as it stood.

"That tells me nothing of how you are feeling, however, save your usual sarcastic temperament is yet to be silenced." He casually tugged a bench to her bedside and planted himself there with a finality he hoped indicated he planned to remain until her answers improved.

Loki sighed and closed her eyes, "Quite tired after so many consecutive attempts on my life. It is such a wonder this realm was never included in the vacation venue of my lands considering how welcoming and peaceful my stay has been. I will be sure to include it first thing upon my return... though you will have need to forgive me when my first act will be to re-banish my brother into one of those spider nests."

Thranduil laughed, but it was short and forced the way her humor had been, "The spiders would enjoy a new visitor, I feel sure."

"To be sure." She confirmed slowly before she suddenly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, effectively ruining his job of covering her up and bring them nearly nose to nose as she leaned down to stare hard into his eyes, "By the way, what exactly did you find... out of curiosity, what state was I in when you found me? You indicated I was confused, but to what extent, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

Ah, she wanted to know just how vulnerable she had been. Perhaps she sought to know just how many secrets, or vulnerabilities she allowed him to see. He could not say if the truth would ease or agitate her further. She display now, sitting up and holding a strong posture was her way of proving she was no longer weak though he could see the very slight trembles in her arms that proved her exhaustion. The Aesir was far too tired to keep up her front and it pained him that she felt she had to.

"You had been attacked by spiders and the Witch King of Angmar, a wraith himself. You were in a condition most understandable for what you endured. I too did not come away unscathed from his presence and was in need of healing." Thranduil hoped that exposing his own secret of weakness might put her in some place of ease.

Loki frowned, reaching out with perhaps the gentlest touch he could ever have expected, the tips of her fingers brushing like feathers against the edge of his jaw, "He hurt you as well?" The sound in her voice was genuine, real, tangible worry that touched something in him that made him pull away from the contact.

It was almost as if she knew something, but she could not know. The touch to his face had been coincidental.

"I only experienced the residual aftermath, unlike you. I believe I told you once that Sauron's being is similar to poison for the Eldar and even the land. It is no different with servants of Sauron for they have portions of his power. It corrupts what it touches as it has done to our land."

Her hand dropped to the table as if the fleeting touch had burned her, or perhaps it had been his response that burned. The Sinda's heart beat a little faster as he realized his error. He was admittedly unused to dealing with any show of affection with particular form that ended well. It had been many an age since he responded well to affection even from his own child, which explained the tumultuous relationship they now shared. But a touch to his face was like a secret being looked into. It made him feel vulnerable, though he should not read too much into her act of worry, yet it had felt too much to take in the moment she offered it. She felt like an open wound, and he like an infection that might do harm if he was pulled into her blood. He should not get too close but she likely needed something, assurance perhaps.

His eyes fluttered closed in irritation. He was so ill equipped for maintaining friendships. Any time others seemed to offer affection toward him, something within him rejected the notion; perhaps he was too afraid of such emotions for they ended in pain very easily. Affection of any kind was dangerous and painful. However, he could offer it more easily than accept it. She seemed to trust him in many ways so he could do little but return something of it.

Thranduil reached out and gave her fingers a light squeeze, "I am well, I promise." There was little else he knew to do, but it was something of an apology and returned token of friendship, so he moved his hand back to his side slowly.

Her chin dipped in a nod, "And the others are also well? Your son? Your ward?"

"They are well. Some injuries were sustained but there was no threat to any lives... we were most fortunate."

She nodded again and silence fell over them until her eyes drifted closed, "Well, I am tired, as I said. Driving away your enemies proved to be vexing. You may thank me properly, perhaps with a grand feast, after I resume my beauty rest."

Her body relaxed back onto the padded table, and she adjusted the blanket before turning her back to him. In the end, he could not decide what manner of sign it was. Hopefully they had done well for their first conversation after the very unfortunate events even if it had been precarious in some places. They were both alive and neither of them had yelled or lashed out, so perhaps it was good enough. The Sinda wished he could believe it was that simple. Perhaps he would tell her later that he planned to help her search for the door to her world once she was well. That might ease a little of the tension.

Thranduil's head jerked to the side when the door swung open to reveal both Cíldaer and Alandaer, but it was the elder healer that spoke, "Mithrandir has returned." He sounded decidedly put out and the Elvenking was wary to know why.

Even so, he stood and moved quietly from the room. Perhaps he should have told the healer that Loki was awake but his mind had already undertaken the switch from ellon to king, prioritizing the most pressing needs. Later he would remember to speak with the elf but not now.

* * *

All was quiet, none seeing fit to linger in the halls. The light from overhead played with the silver in the wizard's hair, accentuating the strands to make them seem metallic. The entry was well illuminated despite the closed gates and lack of windows. It seemed brighter than usual, but perhaps he had simply neglected to notice on other occasions.

The three came to a silent stop. The youngest retreated first without a word. Though it was little surprise since Cíldaer was a little more than slightly intimidated by the wizard.

Thranduil said nothing as he watched Alandaer drop away before they fully entered the room. The respectful downward tilt of the older ellon's head was indication enough that he had no intention of following. He simply dropped away into the shadows and vanished without a word.

It did not bode well if the healer thought they should be left alone. It would suggest he knew something but there was no way to tell what that might be.

The milky blue eyes shined happily when the guest turned to find the Elvenking stood at the door. The smile he offered was welcoming but Thranduil found no comfort in it. He would far rather be by Loki's side facing her current mistrust than be subjected to false kindness. There was no way to avoid the ancient man however.

Something indeed seemed amiss when he looked at the man before him. It might simply have been a remaining residue of darkness and unease from the places he likely entered recently but it made the king all the more wary.

"You are looking far better than when last I set eyes on you. " The wizard smiled still, seeming to mean no ill by the words, but it was difficult to tell.

"Yes, events were kinder to us than expected. The Valar smiled on us, no doubt because of your presence." Eru would have to have been watching over them for them to have survived the wizard and his plotting. He would have had to watch more carefully from the moment the meddling man arrived.

"And how is the Lady Loki?" Mithrandir asked kindly, as though he might genuinely care about the answer.

"She is recovering. I shall offer her your regards when she is feeling well enough to receive them." Thranduil flexed his fingers behind his back, willing himself to be cordial and diplomatic. "Was your search prosperous? Or have we need of further alarm?"

"There is always cause for alarm in this day and age, my lord." The Maia responded sagely.

"True enough, but some are more pressing than others. What I mean to ask is an estimation of how pressing this threat might be, in your most expert opinion." The tone of his voice was a bit tight but he had tired of verbal platitude already.

"It would seem likely the threat has fled for the time being. I searched but found very little trace of him." There was more to the story, the lack of continuation simply screamed as much.

Thranduil pressed, arched brow indicating his lack of amusement at being kept waiting, "Where do you suppose he has gone?"

"It is hard to say. Any number of places might serve his purpose. However, there is something else I wish to speak with you about." The wizard acted as if that would come as some shock; it did not. "Recently, it has been coming to my attention that particular forces are being drawn in a strategic manor, as you know. Forces gathered here, for example, as if called to do so, as evinced by the increased activity of spiders. This is not an isolated case and I begin to suspect they are reacting to foretold events."

"You always speak as if I do not have eyes for myself." The Elvenking finally snapped, but the old man simply smiled.

"I hazard a guess you will not like what I fear they indicate, for I have reason to believe it has to do with the Durin line. There is a power running in that family and there are those that would see it irradicated. The prophecy is inevitable and will come to pass eventually. The outcome, however, is largely up to us. We have the warning and we must decide what to do with it."

"This, again, is nothing new. What I wish to hear from you now is something worth listening to. I know how soft you are toward the dwarves but that has nothing to do with me, I need something more compelling if you intend me to assist you."

Mithrandir frowned like the old man he appeared to be, wrinkles deepening harshly, "Smaug will eventually emerge, and when he does... I very much fear that he will not go unnoticed by far worse powers. The darkness is not as weak as many would like to think, nor will the dark lord slumber forever, even without the ring. We know well the destruction Ancalagon the Black wrought under Morgoth. Lesser dragons were no less harmful. If Smaug is allowed to live he may well prove just as devastating."

"I will not risk the lives of my kin! Battling a dragon would be tantamount to massacre of my people! And for what end? To defend a long fallen city? I road to the aid of Erebor, but I knew in one glance that the city was lost. I would not send my troops to a burning death for nothing, and my decision stands! It is a lost cause."

"What if there were another way?" The wizard prompted gently.

"There is no other way." Thranduil lifted his chin in challenge.

"There is always another way, my friend, if one is persistent enough to look."

"Even the dwarven leaders would not sanction a quest to slay that beast. You will see, they will not aid Oakenshield, you overestimate their loyalty. The men of Esgaroth have even more reason to be combative considering they would suffer first. Girion's son will not be eager to see the city destroyed."

"Thorin may not hold the title of king, but it is his birthright, and he inspires his people. Perhaps he will surprise you." The Istar paused, as if in contemplation before leaning forward as if conspiratorially, "You have maintained ties with the family of the slain king of Dale, if I remember correctly."

There was not a moments hesitation, "I will not advise him to die as his ancestor did. He escaped those horrors once. Do not involve him a second time, Mithrandir." Thranduil set his stance and glared, "If you seek to unite dwarf, elf and man in a grand purpose, I believe you will be forced to do so over another cause."

"It is high time we took action, Thranduil, rather than letting evil grow within the shadows until it is secretly strong enough to destroy us!" There was a hint of anger in that old voice now.

"Is that why you knowingly endangered us, leading us into a trap? Endangering the life of a lady in my care as well as my only son?" The Elvenking was not particularly calm himself, not after being manipulated and used.

Passion was flung at the ellon with every word, a few of the shadows in the room lengthening marginally, "You have become blind, Thranduil, blind to the danger around you. The nation's around you perish for your inaction! You know as well as I what is waiting to be unleashed. We have a chance to act, to stop this before the chain of events cannot be turned back! Your father was very much the same, blind to his own prejudice, and he paid the price." The strong posture slipped into a penitent one the moment he realized his mistaken reference to Oropher.

Boiling lava was in his eyes and dripping from Thranduil's words when he spoke after an unsuccessful moment collecting his temper, "Nothing good will come of meddling in the affairs of those dwarfs, nor especially that cursed mountain, Gandalf! I have known this since Thrór, even before a winged shadow crept along the ground. Why else do you suppose I stayed away? "

"Certain things will come to pass whether we feel agreeable to them or not. You can either join with them or be run over. Would it not be wise to fall in with the right side? " The tone had wavered into a questioning one.

Thranduil tilted his head slowly to one side, eyes fixed on the wizard and still nearly blazing, "Which side would that be? Shall I blindly follow your leading when you promise only speculation with so high potential for desolation?"

With the subject already open, the wizard tried to turn the situation, "Your father was not one to turn away from a battle for the right cause, regardless of assurance that he would be safe. He was the first to charge ahead of his men in a worthy battle he believed in. "

It was a near thing, but the Elvenking bit back both the need to flinch away from those words and the desire to strike the Maia. "Which is why he is dead along with half our people. If you wished to convince me, you have fallen utterly short. I am not my father and I learned well from his mistakes. "

"He was not wrong in his conviction. " Gandalf persisted, "Oropher was instrumental in the fall of Sauron. You should be proud of him. "

"I am proud! But I equally see that my father and my people were used as a sacrifice! They were left to deplete the dark forces with their lives." A bitter smile moved his lips, "No help came for us either. Oakenshield is not the only one able to claim so. We too were left to our fate, but at least I offered to help the dwarves recover. It is hardly my fault Thrór refused in his own maddened hate. "

"Thorin is not his grandfather, nor a Nogrod dwarf. Doriath was long ago and his people are far removed from the old grudges. You would do well to realize that." Mithrandir leveled a hard look down his nose. "They are also not Gil-galad. Perhaps it is time you learned to release the past, bitter or painful though it was."

Was that all he had to offer? Of course. For Elrond was similarly guilty of letting them be cut down without assistance as Gil-galad. Be that as it would, it mattered not. "They are more alike than you might believe. Thrór was sane once." He left the thought to sink in.

Rather than allow an argument to resurface, the ancient being shifted the topic, "Smaug is still a threat. It might be prudent to devise a plan to combat his force should the need arise, regardless of your personal stance on other matters."

"Thank you for your advice. Mithrandir." The Elvenking ground out as pleasantly as he was able. "I shall eagerly await word on the decisions of his people in regards to the mountain."

There was a significant tension in the air between them but the wizard nodded, slow smile creasing his cheeks, "Indeed, as will many. But think over what I have said?"

"Of course. I will keep your counsel at the for front of my thoughts."

"That is all any could ask." The wrinkled smile was too kind to feel right, and some of the anger died.

There was nothing more to be learned. Nothing either of them were willing to give. They were both too set in their secrecy. Still, things should not end badly between them. Making an enemy of a Maia was foolish to say the least.

"You will join us for the evening meal, of course." The Sinda did not bother to make it a request and the other did not feign to take it as one.

"Of course, I would be foolish to miss it. "

Robes swaying behind him, the Elvenking quit the room before anything more could occur to sour things. Later, when the old man was ready, he would find out what more he had to say or request.

* * *

Loki was a survivor. She survived everything; survived and kept moving. Always moving. One foot in front of the other. Never stopping. She never, never stopped. That was what she did, had always done. Keep going because stopping was not an option. Thor never gave up. Sif never gave up. She could do no less, she had to do better; to prove she was not useless. That drive never went away, even as love turned to hate, and a need for approval soured further into a need to make them suffocate on their ill words.

One day they would have no choice but to admit she was strong. Never worthy. That could never be, but strong was a possibility. Powerful. She could show Laufey just how wrong he had been to assume she was weak.

That might have been why she was pacing the floor, back and forth, hands clasped in front of her, eyes focused on something none but she could see.

Alandaer found her that way, pacing, quietly mumbling to herself. She hardly must have looked sane, she knew.

She needed to rest. She knew that. Her body ached for rest but at the same time she could not endure being stationary. Recovery was needed. But what she really needed most of all was to find out quite a lot more about Sauron.

She had thought much over the topic and come to a few conclusions.

There was no way to destroy Odin just now, but there was someone in her grasp. If she brought him to his knees, that would be one piece of her revenge. She would enjoy slaying those monsters.

They were monsters. She had seen that. The necromancer was a monster that could do terrible things. His master, she could imagine, was the same. They were monsters. Monsters had to die. These monsters made a mistake and went after another monster, which made it nearly begging to start a war. She could do that!

For now, she would forget her plans and she would destroy those monsters. After that, perhaps she would overcome Arda. It was not fully unreasonable. If Sauron was trying to rule, he was in her way. That could not happen. Revenge could be accomplished! She would repay them tenfold for crossing her!

The old elf approached her like she thought he might an injured tiger. Her eyes tracked him as he made his way to her.

"Tell me of this dark lord of yours." She commanded, "I wish to know of him and this necromancer."

A distant part of her took notice off the way the dangling light fixture lite the gold in his long hair and made the white of his robe stark, comparable to what an angel would seem. Everything was brighter to her now. She noticed light more keenly and the way it reacted with its surroundings since her last trip in the forest. Everything was brighter, the healer's eyes nearly glowing with reflected light.

"For what purpose?" His deep, calming voice drifted around her, swaying like early morning mist.

Loki resisted the feeling of calm and warmth, "So that I may slay them upon our next encounter."

"Sauron cannot be destroyed any more than the Eldar. One can simply destroy a form or imprison the spirit." He sounded very relaxed and nonplussed by her declaration.

"Then I shall destroy their forms and imprison what is left." She announced with an equal note of casual clarity.

"Why have you decided so suddenly?" Alandaer sounded no more intrigued than he had at the onset.

Loki's tone turned dark and venomous, "Because I want them dead." Her lips twitched in a snarl, "I could tell you that I wish to see your world be rid of their influence, but the truth is of a simple nature. I wish to have revenge. If I cannot have it on my brother, I shall take it from a new enemy I have already grown to hate. In doing so, your people benefit, so why question it?"

"Because you could easily be killed in the attempt. Many great forces have perished in this same endeavour ." Alandaer's voice was stronger and more stern with this new declaration.

Loki found a laugh slipping from her throat, "I do not care. So long as I claim victory I care not."

The laughter continued slowly at first, but turned to hysterics. His dark eyes watched her very carefully, taking it all in, studying. That was somehow equally hilarious to her and she giggled uproariously.

Alandaer settled on the floor beside her, graceful as anything she could name. It was only then that she realized she was on her knees, planted on the floor as her laughter rocked her.

"I will destroy him for you. " Loki gasped out breathlessly, still giggling uncontrollably.

His arms were gentle as they came around her, tugging her to his chest. "I care, Loki." He whispered into her hair, "I care very much, as do others. One day you will see just how valuable you are, but until then, I will remind you."

The laughter turned sharply to a sob, and then another before she held her breath to stop them. Her fingers found his and she clung to them.

"You really should not..." Her voice wavered dramatically, so she changed what she first intended to say lest she reveal too much in her weakness. "You should not be on the floor when you are wearing white."

If only this man had been her father. Either one of them. Perhaps things would be much different. Perhaps she would still be sane. Perhaps people would be able to stand her touch. Perhaps none of this would have happened and she would know at least a little bit of happiness.

As it stood, she could not afford to think of such wistful things. Her heart and resolve must be made of iron, so she pushed aside emotion and pulled forward the frozen block of hate. Loki pulled from his hold, squirming like a snake until she was free. Her eyes were cold and lifeless as she stared into his face next.

"All I need from you is information, not pity." A manic smile slipped free as she produced one of her many blades, summoned to her hand, "I learned to destroy monsters since I was small. It is what my family does, slaying threats and keeping the nine realms safe. I will not rest until I have claimed the head of this monster. Arda is my ally now, after all." She twirled the blade about her fingers, "Besides, I'm in the mood for blood and I will have it with or without your help."

Nothing in his expression showed hint of fear, it only reflected sadness and perhaps resignation. "Very well. I can teach you what I know if you are so determined."

"Good." Perhaps if she did this... Thranduil would be pleased. They never need know what she really was. It could be a fresh start. It could be her chance to live without Thor overshadowing her. The Eldar might accept her if she was able to accomplish her goal.

She would sell her soul to Hella for the chance at a new life. Or, if she perished she might finally earn a place in Valhalla. With such a feat, Thranduil would be safe and revered for securing her help. He could rule more than a dying forest then.

The dragon was of little consequence in such a light. The world could breathe more easily with its monsters vanquished.

They might learn to like her. Maybe after that she could amass an army to march on Asgard. Given time, they might even be willing.

* * *

The moment the Elvenking turned the corner for the tower, he was faced with a stern face of his son. Sometimes he could swear they switched rolls and he became the child attempting to avoid a scolding.

That look meant nothing good and he found no strength to endure what might come of it. He needed time to gather his thoughts into order. Thranduil stepped around his only child and moved for the stairs that could take him away from all of them. He was stopped, however.

"You must listen to him, Adar!" Legolas gripped his father's arm desperately.

It took no mental effort to understand the subject matter. The healer might have offered privacy, but his son had not. It was hard to say how much had been overheard.

"I do listen! What you must understand is that Istari have all of Arda to look after! We as a people are not their true concern! All things, even things they love can be sacrificed for what they believe to be the greater good! Can you not understand that?" Thranduil's words were a whisper but no less harsh to the ear for the conviction within, "I listen! The difference is that I must not always do as they say lest I lead my people down a battle to the death for their agenda!"

"Gandalf is a friend." Legolas held tighter, clinging to the fabric like a lifeline, "We need him as a friend! You said yourself that we must prepare for the future!"

Thranduil withdrew from his son's hold, "You are young! You know nothing of the world! To you it is all very simple!"

"I know nothing because you have hidden us all away from the rest of the world! Too afraid to be part of anything or risk anything!"

The Elvenking was suddenly so close, nearly nose to nose with eyes blazing, "Risk! You speak of risk? What do you understand of ruling? Each time I send my people into battle, someone will die... and do you know who is responsible for those deaths? The king! My hands are stained with blood centuries old, just as my father's were! One must not send their kin to their deaths lightly! That is the truth of power! It is blood and sorrow, long nights listening to the screaming of those we could not save, haunted by every drop of blood spilled in our name!"

"And if your inaction causes us to be slaughtered the way Durinson's people were?"

"I will not allow that." The older ellon slowly pulled away, stepping back with a limp as if pained. "I will protect these people to my last breath."

"What if Mithrandir is right? What if we must join their cause or be destroyed?"

Thranduil took a moment before answering, "What if it were Tauriel's life I wagered? If you knew she was likely to die if I sent her to face the dragon, would you still wish me to? Or if you knew you might watch her fall to the flames before your very eyes and be helpless to save her?"

The look of absolute horror sweeping over his son told him the answer. "Think of that, Legolas, before you pass judgement. It is these things I think of before I declare my alliance. For there has never been a war or battle without casualties. You must be ready for loss if you cast your lot in with the battles of others.

You have never stared into the face of a dragon and felt it's fire melt the skin from your bones while your brothers and sisters die at your side. You have never looked over a field of blood and seen mutilated bodies and faces of those you love. Until you have, until you have seen these things, do not be so swift of volunteer others to pay with their lives for battles that are not your own."

Legolas dropped his chin to his chest, "I understand. Forgive me, I simply fear our inaction will eventually lead us to the same outcome."

"Do you trust me, my child?" The Sinda studied his son for the slightest hint of indecision when he lifted his head once again.

Their eyes met and Legolas was a child once more, blind and open with his innocent trust, "Yes, I do."

Thranduil reached out to touch the backs of his fingers to his son's check, "I will always do what I must to protect you and our people. I would set my life aside with gladness if I could protect you. Never consider it otherwise."

Legolas caught hold of his father's wrist before he could fully withdraw his hand, "I will not always be yours to protect."

"Yes, you will. For so long as a child draws breath, a parent will seek to keep them safe and well. It will never change even when you no longer wish it to be true."

Neither of them needed lend voice to the fact that the days had already come.

"What answer will you give Mithrandir?" The young ellon had yet to release his wrist.

"The one I must. But you seem to forget that I already have a plan. With Loki's help, our people will not fall. "

Perhaps he could not let her return home just would make it up to her one day. He would earn her trust and friendship. One day he would repay the debt, give her anything she asked of him unreservedly.

"Do you think she can really do such a thing, Adar? Would we be truly safe?"

"Yes. We could be as safe as Rivendell has been. We will build a haven. All will be well." .He did not deserve her help but he would try to earn what she gave.

* * *

AN: For the last few Legolas and Thranduil parts I was thinking so much of the relationship we see through the movies. They were distant but close all at once in the movie, deleted scenes included. I thought it was really sad the way the relationship broke in bofa! They were too different, and really, Legolas could not understand his father because he had never seen the kinds of things the Elvenking did. Bofa was the splitting point and it was so saaaad because daddy loves you Legolas! He's just bad at showing it!

Sorry for the late update. Life has not been going well. I tried


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